#please stop making me be a human please stop making me have control make decisions interpret everything BEFORE acting

[agayworthfightingfor]

i wish my struggles were with things people understood that it is possible for someone to struggle with

[sutorus]

JUST THINKING ABOUT VIRGIN!GOJO. . .

getting close to gojo satoru was hard. like limitless was not only a technique but a way of living — of getting by. and you understand; having someone means having something to lose. being the strongest sorcerer alive means you have to be self sufficient, for the entire world’s sake.

but even though most would insist he is more god than human, there was nothing he could do to keep himself from falling into you. it’s the first time he feels okay relinquishing control, accepting unpredictability. he wonders, morosely, if this is what it feels like to be a regular teenager, even if he’s well into his 20s. to make dumb decisions like stay up late on the phone, to make out in the movies, to get nervous about meeting your parents, to buy matching phone cases.

gojo is obsessed with the feeling. he didn’t know he could want someone as much as he wants you, body and soul but god — your body. the way you get on top of him and make his abs seize, his hips grinding up of their own accord. you always laugh so sweetly at his desperation, licking into his mouth and letting your hands wander.

he gets hard embarrassingly fast, every time. whines anguished little moans, not knowing what he wants next. gripping your hips over his like it’s a lifeline, fucking up into you and rubbing your clothed crotches together like he doesn’t know how much better it can get — and he doesn’t. and that excites you beyond belief.

the first time it happens, it doesn’t last long. you told him you could ride him, that it wasn’t a problem, he could just focus on being as comfortable as possible. but the utter heat with which he said “no. no, you’re not fucking me. i’m fucking you,” left you weak in the knees.

he’s hurried, but he takes time to kiss every inch of your body once your clothes are off, murmuring sweet nothings about how you’re so perfect and all his. he’s been hard as a rock ever since you started kissing, not letting you get your mouth on him or even roll the condom on, too afraid of ruining it that soon.

when he slips inside, it’s so much better than he could’ve imagined. there’s no comparison, no feeling in the world, not even healing his deadly wounds and coming back to life can compare. you’re soft, warm and wet, gripping him just right, massaging his length like you were made to take him.

he can’t keep his mouth shut, can’t keep the surprise out of his voice. he fucks into you violently, unable to comprehend that it can feel this good. you feel perfect, like he never wants to leave, wants to be inside of you forever and just fuck you again and again and again.

“f-fuck, fuck, hang on,” gojo has to pause halfway, abs contracting rhythmically as he stills inside you. he looks up, huffing out an overwhelmed breath, and you can’t help but let out a giggle. “yeah? this funny to you? i’ll give you something to laugh about, just you wait.”

he starts moving again slowly, and you caress his face, singing him praise about how good he’s doing. he mewls at the compliment, wanting to please, needing to be the best you ever had no matter the circumstances. and he is, he was made for you and you for him.

“aahh, fuck baby i can’t stop — can’t, sorry, i can’t, i’m gonna cum, god i’m gonna cum,” he chokes out, pistoning in and out of you at an unforgiving pace. you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist. “oh fuck, fuck don’t do that, if you do that i’m gonna—“

“it’s okay, satoru,” you whisper, finding the timing to catch his lips in a kiss. “i want you to.”

his groan is guttural, like it’s been punched out of him, and he buries himself so deep inside you you can hardly swallow as he gives a few final, short thrusts into your pussy. he cums so hard that he loses all sense, his grip bruising you, he’s pretty sure he’s crying, whining your name like you could save him right now.

it’s a heavenly sight, so hot that it has you clenching around him chasing your own high. when he comes to, he presses two long fingers to your clit, kissing your face all over until you’re tumbling over the edge as well.

you lay there, side by side, catching your breaths in sync. which is why it comes as a surprise when he wastes no time getting on top of you again, fingers chasing your entrance.

“satoru,” you laugh, in part amusement and part desbelief. “just gimme a few minutes, okay? i just c—“

“nuh uh,” he kisses you to shut you up, then takes his mouth down your body. you notice, a little horrified, that he’s already hard again. “you already came on my cock. now i’m gonna make you cum on my fingers, and then my mouth. and then we’ll see who’s gets the last laugh.”

[yandere--stuck]

Thinking about Yandere!Ratchet from Safety Hazard being on Synthetic Energon and being much more forward with his human. He’s definitely gonna be embarrassed by the way he was with them when he’s off of it lmao

“You're such a tease, you know that?” Ratchet hissed.

You blinked, not quite believing your ears. You turned about, furrowing your brows as you shot a look up to Ratchet at his station by the main computer screens. The green of his optics shone on you like spotlights, glowing brightly as he glowered down at you.

“Excuse me?” You asked, incredulous.

“You think I don't know what you're trying to do,” he sneered. “Showing up here, showing off your flesh, teasing me…”

“Ratchet, I'm not dressing any differently from what I usually wear!”

The medic growled, frustrated. “Then, it's not the clothes. It's just you. Something wrong with you that makes you beg for my attention.”

He took a sudden step toward you, the floor of the base shaking for a moment. You backed up, a sudden, cold wave of fear washing over you.

“Ratchet, stop,” You said, voice wary. “You're not making sense and you're scaring me.”

A smirk carved its way onto Ratchet’s face as he continued his slow advance on you.

“What doesn't make sense is what you do to me,” Ratchet purred, “I should be disgusted by the sight of your skin, but instead, I have the urge to reach out and-”

Large, stubby digits reached out to grab at you. You tried to sprint past his servo, but he was far too fast, scooping your small form into his servo and holding you tight in his grip. An involuntary shout escaped you, and your stomach dropped as Ratchet lifted you into the air. You were face-to-face with the Medic as he laughed, watching as you attempted to squirm and kick yourself free.

“Gotcha,” He grinned, green eyes shining with something that looked like hunger.

“Ratchet, p- please,” You gasped out, barely able to breathe. “It's the Synth-En! This isn't you.”

He didn't dignify your words with a response. He only continued to grin and hold you with his gaze.

Blood pounded in your ears to the beat of your rabbiting heart. As much as you tried to calm yourself and slow your breathing, you couldn't bring yourself under control. Terror shot through your nerves, your entire body taut like the string of a bow, bracing for Ratchet to crush you under his thumb.

But, he didn't. For too long a moment, he simply looked at you. Drank in the expression of fear on your face, how he had you right where he wanted you, like an organic prey animal in a trap. And, hey, that's basically what you were, right?

And then, the thumb of the servo holding you moved. An involuntary gasp bubbled up from your throat, sounding as desperate and breathless as a final breath. But, not to crush you. It brushed against your cheek, so decisive and purposeful. So gentle and just as potentially deadly.

You met his eyes.

“... You're my human. You know that, right?” He asked.

Your brows furrowed. What the Hell was he talking about? You opened your mouth to argue- but, as if reading your mind, Ratchet tightened his hold on you, silencing you.

“Don't lie to me, or I'll squeeze.”

Your breathing was shallow as you trembled in Ratchet's hold. His stubby digits curled tighter around you. You felt the pressure squeezing against your organs. The air was forced out of you, left coughing and unable to inhale. He simply watched as you spasmed and fought to be able to breathe.

And then he relaxed his hold. You quickly inhaled and exhaled, desperate to get air back into your burning lungs. Your body weak, all you could do was allow yourself to be held up by Ratchet as you recovered in his grip, panting like a dog.

“Now, what do we say?” Ratchet teased.

“I'm yours,” You relented. “I'm yours.”

“Now that's a good human.” Ratchet praised, expression just a touch softer. “And I trust the others won't be hearing about this when they get back. Right?"

[sugurouge]

— diabolic waltz : getō suguru x f!reader

content warnings! DARK CONTENT, dubcon/noncon, yandere themes, size difference, strength difference, corruption, power dynamics/imbalance (reader refers to geto as master), pet names (doll, whore, toy, bunny, little one), hair pulling, water torture/forced drowning/waterboarding, punishment, deep throating, mind break, degradation

summary: You should know better than to behave greedy or entitled, but if he so sweetly entices you to misbehave, even the impeding punishment doesn't stop you from taking what you need. Until it's time to pay up. And Getō makes sure you always pay your debts.

wordcount: 2k | my kinktober masterlist

by clicking read more you are agreeing to consume dark content. don't interact if you cannot differentiate fiction from reality.

Geto rests comfortably in his armchair, dark purple eyes rake over your needy body—only hidden beneath a layer of satin. With you in his lap, there is at least a sort of solace to his tiresome days. He likes to view you as a sick way of rewarding himself, his prize for making it through another 24 hours. Hence why you're always kept on display whenever it's just the two of you. Him and his property, the weak human that somehow won his twisted interest. Nothing more than eye candy for him. You're so pretty until you turn needy and start talking too much.

"Master, please—" you start your advances all over again. Ever so prettily as your nails drag over Geto's exposed chest; you have long since pushed aside the layers of his attire.

Geto heaves a heavy sigh. It's his first indicator for you to shut your pretty mouth before he sends curses your way. Yet, simultaneously, he can't resist the torture; cannot keep his right leg from bouncing to cause friction against your puffy lips. Teasing you further to hear more whimpers instead of your actual voice.

Your hands press against his body as you try to control the bouncing, but the friction created by your dress brushing against your nipples makes it impossible to form coherent or cautious thoughts. Your legs clench around Geto's muscular thigh, attempting to maintain the pleasurable feeling.

"You really wish to bother me like that right now?" His dangerously low voice challenges. Suguru is well aware that he is the cause of your distress, but would he ever admit that? Not in a million lifetimes.

You know full well what will happen if you say yes, how your day will turn out if you give in to your own neediness when your master isn't the one to initiate. Your glossy orbs beg him without another word spilling from your lips as you nod.

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. You're just so dumb; how could he not adore you? The minor tilt of his head gives you the okay to shed your dress, to expose your perfectly clean body to his eyes. It's one of his priorities, to always have his doll look prim and proper. Soft and dewy skin, rose oil spoiling your figure to make it shine in the low afternoon light and envelop you in faux innocence for him to ruin.

You sink down to your knees right between his legs, your delicate fingers running over his muscular thighs up to his stomach, but the "tsk" coming from Geto's lips has you freeze immediately. Doe eyes look up at his intimidating stare, while his entire face remains stoic—almost bored, as he rests his cheek in one of his palms.

"Hand or thigh, no cock," he bluntly states.

You try to suppress the whine rising in your throat, try not to furrow your brows at his statement.

"Well, what will it be, bunny?"

He doesn't actually ask. Geto simply enjoys oversaturating your lusty mind with difficult decisions. You're always so afraid he will leave you.

"Hand, please, please," you bat your lashes at him even though you're painfully aware of how little effect it has on him. Yet he pats his thigh, indicating for you to sit on his lap once again. Your body follows suit.

"Any other wishes?" Narrowed eyes stare at you, they make you feel small and vulnerable as his hand dances along your thigh, drawing close to your needy pussy.

Your eyes snap down to his dishevelled clothes, raking over the layers of fabric that hide his perfect body from your gaze and touch.

You inhale sharply the moment his fingers snap you out of your thoughts, penetrating your walls deeply without warning and immediately curling against your clamping muscles. Yes, Geto might be okay with listening to your begs once in a while, but his pleasure lies in overwhelming your pathetic body, not preparing you softly.

Your head lolls back, fingers holding onto his shoulders, though they twitch to run through his black strands. You are well aware of the fact that he'd never let you ruin his hair.

Soft moans spill from your parted lips. He taught you to stay quiet, to not ruin his image of you—his sweet doll.

Yet the feeling is too good. The way his fingers stretch your cunt, your slick dripping down over his digits and palm. Your hips roll against his hand, pretty whines causing your chest to heave so perfectly for Geto to enjoy the sight of your tits.

He adds a third finger with ease and uses his thumb to draw intricate patterns on your clit, applying more pressure on the nub once he feels you tighten around him. "Such a needy whore..." he mumbles impassively.

But his cold voice, the boredom laced in his words mixed with his brutal ministrations, are exactly what you've grown to love from your master. It's so clear that you're doing something wrong, that you're messing up his perfect routine—but you just can't help it.

Your whines grow louder, small fingers now gripping onto his wrist as the coil in your stomach tightens further and further before it explodes. You fall forward, against Geto's chest, covering his neck area with moans, tears, and sweat as you gush all over his hand and dirty his robes.

Goosebumps run over your heavenly skin, clearly proving how overwhelmingly good he can make you cum with just his hand by now.

"Disgusting..."

You flinch slightly at that, eyes squeezing shut from just one word coming from Geto. He pulls his hand out of your tight cavern, your slick clearly coating his skin as a scowl spreads on his face. "You enjoy this? Staining me with your slutty needs?"

You create some distance between your bodies, shamefully staring at his hand before your eyes trail over his tainted clothes. You didn't plan on this happening, didn't plan to make such a mess, especially not over him, but why does he have to be this good?

Being a disappointment still has the same effect on you as it did from the start, causing tears to spill from your eyes as your body starts to shiver. "'M sorry, I didn’t—I wanted—"

"Time for a bath, no?" he sighs and gets up, pushing your smaller body off his lap with little care as disgust is clearly painted on his features.

Your butt meets the hardwood flooring and you try frantically to stop the tears from running down your face. Pleading ever-so sweetly with a shaky voice for your "Master..." to have mercy.

The clacking of his shoes stops the moment he stands beside your body once again. Long fingers card through your locks before he kneels beside you and tugs at your roots.

"How much longer are you going to make me wait, little one, hm?"

The sting on your scalp rips you out of your struggling mind; it forces you to rely on your instincts if you want to get out of this unscathed tonight. "Forgive me," you whisper.

So incredibly cute.

Geto takes a deep breath, eyes running over your body as he hums. "Five minutes."

You nod in perfect understanding and immediately grab your gown before hurrying over to the bathroom.

Aftercare is important, he always tells you. And aftercare you shall give him.

So you let water fill the spacious bathtub, let the most expensive bubble bath fill the room with a soothing scent as you light candles to set the mood and welcome Suguru in.

You stand in front of his large frame, looking up at his face to grant you permission to undress him, carefully undoing the ties of his gown before letting the heavy garments hit the floor. You will wash them as well.

Only his briefs aren't yours to touch as he walks past you and finishes undressing himself before he sinks into the warm bathwater.

You watch him the entire time—how he leans back against the expensive porcelain of the tub, arms resting around the rim—looking oh so inviting. His eyes meet your gaze, appreciating your obedient state as he slightly tilts his head to make your body move.

You follow his silent order, going down on your knees right behind his back, cool fingertips carefully reaching out to lie on his tensed back.

The stark difference in temperature makes Geto hiss in annoyance, slightly flinching out of your reach as he glares over his shoulder. You are quick now to rub your hands together, mumbling your apologies before trying to touch him once again.

Small fingers soothe his skin, spoiling his muscles. You always start with his shoulders, using a sponge to have the warm water coat his exposed back and chest, massaging the well-trained area until his breathing calms down and little groans escape his throat.

Only then do you move on to kneel next to him, carefully admiring his relaxed features—he looks almost angelic. So calm, almost innocent.

Until his eyes meet yours and he holds out his hand to you. The exact hand he used to make you cum and that was tainted with your juices.

You focus on it, carefully massaging his fingers and ‘cleaning’ him further. "Good little doll..." Suguru breathes his praise out between his soft lips. It's usually the only compliment you receive, so you make sure to savour it.

You smile gently and finish up your care of his hand until he takes it out of your hold. He brushes your hair out of your face, leading his hand to reach around the back of your neck as you bend over the bathtub, nails digging painfully into your scalp while being pulled forward to be met with the bathwater.

You squeeze your eyes shut immediately, trying desperately to keep your lips sealed as you're pushed beneath the surface. Your nails grab onto the porcelain of the tub, weak muscles trying desperately to stop him from shoving you down further, but it's to no avail. He's much stronger than you'll ever be.

Geto lifts your head back up out of the water, and you suck the air back into your lungs—which quickly mixes with the bathwater as he dunks your head down again.

Your screaming is drowned by the transparent liquid all around you.

It becomes a loop—the pain of him tugging at your roots, being met with the cold air of the bathroom before he pushes you down again.

It becomes a loop—the pain of him tugging at your roots, the cold air of the bathroom meeting your skin before he pushes you down again. Your mind loses focus, your fight grows mellow until he pushes his erect cock between your lips. It jolts you back awake. Not only are you drowning in the water, but you also have his thick shaft infiltrating your mouth. Tears mix with the water, nails digging into his abs and thighs as your attempts to scream vibrate along his cock.

Geto groans. His eyes roll into their sockets as he completely relishes the feeling of your convulsing throat around his member—all while in the comfort of his bathtub. But he has to stop. Sadly, at some point, he remembers you’re not actually a doll. Your body grows slack, and the struggling of your throat diminishes.

Only then does he pull your head out of the water, letting your body slump over the edge of the tub as he slaps your cheeks until you wake up. Your head pounds as you choke up water; it almost feels like someone is ripping your lungs apart.

“Stupid toy…” Geto mumbles, already dragging your head down and forward again.

“No, no, please, not again!” you frantically plead, and he stops—stops right before the surface of the water meets the tip of your nose.

“Why not? I made you cum how you wanted to as well, didn’t I?” he analytically proclaims. “Now suck like I taught you.”

The sting of the water is maddening; only the stretch of his cock against the back of your mouth inflicts more pain upon your body as he guides you up and down with water infiltrating your lungs.

It all becomes a blur in the end, and it’s hard to tell what is real and what a bad dream when you wake up the next morning in your soft king-sized bed, dressed in one of his favourite baby dolls, and his strong arms around you.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[melverie]

Can I just say that I absolutely LOVE how ever since they all found out that MC is human and was brought here against their will, it was Lucifer who kept insisting that they shouldn't be the ones to trap MC in the Devildom. That whether they want to stay or not is a decision MC has to make themself and that the brothers should support them no matter what they end up choosing

And now that the moment is finally here, now that MC has confirmed that they indeed plan on heading home, and now that all of his brothers agreed on helping them get back, having forged a pact and lending their powers to do so—

Now that he knows that he's the final piece needed to send them back; that the lingering idea of the yet to be forged pact between them is what's stopping MC from potentially leaving their side for good, leaving his side for good—

Now that they have finally gotten to this point, he realizes something. And he's unable to live with it

And so, he goes back on his word.

He's taking that choice from them.

"I don't want to."

Lucifer's pride is what keeps his voice leveled and neutral, as if it were just another day. As if he everything was completely fine. As if he didn't feel this pain in his heart, almost as if someone had rammed a dagger through his chest over and over and over again

To most people, he'd appear to be in perfect control of his emotions—if only his gaze wouldn't completely obliterated that frail façade of his. The way his beautiful dark eyes shimmering with a hint of blood red silently plead, beg MC to stay...

Internally, he is breaking apart because he knows what he is doing isn't right. He knows that he shouldn't trap them like a bird in a cage, and yet he can't help himself. Not in this situation. Not when it comes to MC

'No'

He—Lucifer, Avatar of Pride himself—is the last thing trapping the very person that finally made him realize what his sister had meant forever ago

'I won't let you go'

How one day, someone would stumble their way into his life, and how he'd love them so wholeheartedly and so deeply that everything else would become trivial as long as he'd get to hold them in his arms

'I can't let you go'

Someone that he'd happily throw away everything for, not even considering any alternatives if only for the shred of a chance at just one last tomorrow with them

'Please stay with us. Please stay with me'

Everything.

'I cannot lose you, MC'

Even if they'll never forgive him for it.

"I'm not going to forge a pact with MC."

[triasticalwarlock]

yandere bob with a reader who has an odd fascination with cannibalism? shes never tried human flesh, but she certainly wouldnt be opposed

Deadly fascination

Hope you like this! Bare with me since like the other characters I write for, I'm still perfecting his personality. But I hope you liked this! Also, sorry if it's short. Enjoy! :)

Pairing- bob velseb x reader

Relationship- Romantic/platonic

Warnings- yandere behavior, cannibalism, when he's a red flag but y/n is color blind, fascination with cannibalism, murder, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, controlling behavior, non-con bob,MDNI.

Genre- yandere, fluff(?)

I personally believe that for both regular and yandere bob, they would both be ecstatic. Finding someone who wasn't terrified of them just from this fact, accepting the hunger for flesh without a second. They would be even more happy once they find out about your weird fascination with it, the first thing coming out of their mouth.

"Ya wanna try it?"

For yandere bob, he wouldn't really care if you wanted to try it or not. If he has to, he'll force feed you. While regular bob, will still try to get you to eat it, but will respect your decision after the 2nd time of trying. But knowing how you wouldn't be opposed of trying it, would send bob into a frenzy. Making a whole ass thanksgiving dinner but with human meat for you, standing in front of you. Fidgeting in excitement, waiting to see what you think of it. Now, if you like it, this man is mentally jumping in joy and shouting ' HURRAY!' and then will tell you to keep the eating. If you don't like it, he really doesn't care, will still make you eat it.

If you're fascination is that strong, he'll gladly let you watch him kill and cook his victims. Both Bob's are addicted to your attention, loves it when it's on them. But with yandere bob it amplified by 1000x. So having you watch him is like a blessing to him. Asking him questions about the process with make him rant about all the facts of cannibalism he knows, look at his search history and all of it is just, ' facts about cannibalism'. While he is a cold blooded killer, and cannibal. He is such a goddamn nerd. It's insane how much he knows about this way of eating.

Also, biting. Let's talk about that. If you want to, he'll gladly let you take a bite out of him. Biting and eating your partner is a love language for him. So that means he'll do it to. The places he normally goes for are; the arms, legs, neck, and fingers. But he keeps in mind not to take a bite out of you to much! Wouldn't want you leaving him would we?

Feeling the softness of his stomach Beneath your foldes legs feel like they were on a cloud. His large hands holding your hips just to hold you. Placing your hands on his shoulders, which was covered by his regular blood-red sweater. Sending you a grin, he tilts his head in a curious manner. " Watcha waiten' on suga?" Lifting one of his eye brows at you. You look away for a moment, thinking. " Well, I don't know where to bite you at." Letting out a booming laugh, slightly moving you up and down from your placement on his stomach. Before stilling. Still letting out a few chuckles" Please, hun. I've bittan inta' more people than ya could blink. I'ma be fine." Tilting his head more to give you room, his turtle-neck pulled aside. You nod, deciding to trust him. What else could you do? You knew he would force you if you didn't, he always did. But it wasn't like you wanted to stop, you where just making up scenarios. Leaning into the nave of his neck, you bite down. Not softly, but not rough either. Comfortable. You feel the rumble through his neck when he groans. Knowing him by know that he more than likely had some drool running down his stubbled chin. Lifting your hand, you dig it in his dark, black hair. Massaging his scalp as you bite harder. Making a iron-like taste invade your mouth. You feel Bob's arms wrap around you, pushing you against him harder. The position of your legs making it slightly uncomfortable, but you manage. The sounds falling out of his mouth sound like one of pleasure, not even in a sexual way. Just knowing that you were the one doing this was comforting to him. So, while it last. He indulged as much as he could.

Bob is also fiercely possessive. And just the thought of having a piece of himself inside of you( shut up, I know what you all have going through your heads right now)? Makes him happy, it makes him feel at peace. Because where ever you go he'll always be with you; protecting you, keeping you, owning you. you get this gist. And having a piece If your flesh in him does the same thing. You'll always be with him no matter what.

If you want, he'll let you kill someone yourself! He'll watch like a proud dad as you stab them. Pointing at you and going, 'see that? That's my wife that's killing you' then, he might let you cook with him! The reason that he doesn't do it without some convincing is because cooking for you is one of his pride and joys, mostly his pride. And he likes taking care of you, it makes you rely on him.

But, by some god you do manage to convince him. He'll be instructing and watching your every move. To make sure you don't get hurt and still having some control over your actions. Besides, he was a literal cook once, and he eats human flesh like it's a religion. You know that he knows what he's doing, so you listen.

But overall, regular and yandere bob would be happy with your interest in cannabism. They have your attention on them and are able to be in your presence. Which puts both versions at ease.

Version-not edited. Will if I notice something I didn't before.

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

Ok I know people on here probably already know this but like. I want to say. Asuka blowing up Japan was not just a "Haha I'm gonna just do this" it was a "Oh fuck what the fuck is happening we need to aim this so the entire earth doesn't get fucked" and last ditch directed it at Japan. I AM NOT EXCUSING THAT! I AM NOT SAYING ASUKA NEVER DID ANYTHING WRONG I JUST WANT PEOPLE TO UNDERSTAND THE EVENTS CORRECTLY! Asuka's main goal in turning Aria into Justice was to prevent the Gear Project from being used for war so he created Justice out of Aria (THIS is something you can hate him for this is an extremely fucked up thing to do and I'm not going to analyze what he did to Fredrick and Aria in this post because that's a whole other can of worms) as a command type Gear to be able to PREVENT total war by taking control of ALL gears. However UNBEKNOWNST to him the Universal Will was taking control of Justice/Aria as she awoke and was going to destroy humanity (because The Original fucked up in making the Universal Will and some weird clause happened where "protect humanity" ended up being "humanity is a threat to itself so they all have to die") by mutating the people in Japan into bombs. Asuka realized that if it went on like this the world might be destroyed and in the moment he redirected Justice with the last bit of control he had over her using Manual Override to just destroy Japan to prevent this. It was NOT an easy or light decision that he had time to make! He had to try and stop the Gear Project from being used for warfare and destruction, TWICE, and failed both times and ended up destroying the world anyway. He put the Flame of Corruption in Frederick and turned him into a gear as a failsafe before this, likely because Asuka ONLY had Frederick and Aria to rely on as friends at all. IN ABSOLUTELY NO WAY IS HE ABSOLVED OF ANY OF THOSE CRIMES! HE HASN'T EVEN ABSOLVED HIMSELF! HE DID NOT CHOOSE TO BECOME A MONSTER DOING FUCKED UP SHIT FOR NO REASON HE WAS IN A DIFFICULT POSITION BECAUSE OF WHAT HE CREATED WITH FREDERICK AND ARIA!! HE PLANS TO KILL HIMSELF IN HIS STRIVE ARCADE MODE FROM THE GUILT! STOP MAKING ME GO TO BAT FOR ASUKA BECAUSE PEOPLE WON'T READ! ALL OF THIS IS ON THE GGWIKI YOU ONLY NEED TO READ 2 OR 3 ENTRIES TO GET THAT BASIC LEVEL OF INFORMATION!! PLEASE!

I linked Asuka here but also seeing the entry for "Japan" will explain the situation. I am. NOT saying. Asuka was right. I AM saying that the idea that this is a wholly Black and White "everything in the world is his fault" situation is a GROSS FLANDERIZATION and oversimplification of what is an EXTREMELY compelling, horrifying, and tragic story of a man paving his way to hell with good intentions and I need. People to stop talking about Asuka or Chaos lore when they're on screen in Strive when they don't know what the hell they're talking about. Please.

[therandomartmaker]

(In Case I Don’t See You) Good Afternoon, Good Evening and Goodnight.

DPxDC

After a reveal, things go strange for Danny. At first, he thinks it’s just the lingering effects of having his vigilante identity out in the open. Sam and Tucker tell him he’s being paranoid, and Jazz doesn’t talk much with him because she’d left for college. She only listens to his words and talks him through the feelings, a steady presence.

It’s then that he realises that his ghosts had been showing up… regularly. Not erratic and randomly, they were almost scheduled; he’d checked once, and they had always shown up when the time was even. He’d said this to Sam and Tucker, Tucker looked concerned but Sam brushed him off. “They’d have to coordinate for that, Danny,” she said, “Do you really think Skulker wouldn’t take every chance possible to fight you?”

His ghosts were getting more agitated. It wasn’t hard to defeat them, they were just. Angrier. They also went down easier, but got back up faster. They also were disjointed in their banter, and it got worse as time went by, fights quieter and more… emotion filled.

It’s only when Danny spots several white vans nearby his fights that he realised he’d forgotten about the GIW.

Danny rushed home, to the portal- he’s unlucky, or perhaps rather fortunate, that he stumbles upon the GIW in his home, talking to his parents. It’s an easy decision to turn invisible.

“Keeping Patient Zero in the Truman cage is working well, but it might be catching on. Unscheduled fights give us more subjects, so you’ll be lent Subject-E and Subject-SK in two days, in the private laboratory, as they are currently useless in field and hinder the process.”

Patient Zero? Subject-E and Subject-SK? Useless? What process?

Truman Cage? …Danny knew that movie. Watched it with Jazz a few years before, because Jazz had a project on it, wanted to do inquiry on unethical ‘imprisonment’ and isolation.

Static buzzed through the air, and Danny heard the GIW agent pick up an ecto-proof walkie talkie. “Report, Patient Zero has been missing for two minutes, unknown whereabouts, may be heading or already at FW Household.”

Danny swore mentally, flying away to the roof of the Nasty Burger, still invisible.

Shit. What were they doing- what kind of shit had they already done?

…What could Danny do to stop it?

—

Batman stared at the report in his hands. Phase One of the Ghost Investigation Ward’s plan was going well, to capture and learn everything they can about ectoplasmic beings and a ‘villainous creature’ that has taken control of a small town in Illinois. Supposedly, the ‘creature’ was a volatile destructive being that repeatedly put the town through constant attacks.

Everything about it smelt fishy, and he’d found about the ‘GIW’ was flimsy, and a strangely large amount of money was being siphoned into it. The Fenton research being used was also something that shouldn’t’ve been published, biased and clearly contradictory in areas.

The information blockout was just asking for investigation.

sorry that this isn’t more for the story! I may write more for this, but idm this being used as a prompt post either! If you respond to this in a separate post, please tag me, i like to see what y’all make, don’t just link this post and run y’all. Also, i’m like 80% sure someone’s made this already or at least done something similar, so if someone could find and link that, that’d be awesome

On a side note; some notes for this specific thing, but freedom is encouraged and this is mainly for myself because ik i’ll forget about this.

The GIW learnt danny’s id before the reveal and figured out very quickly that they wouldn’t be able to do anything to him because he’s legally human and he hasn’t had biological testing to make sure he isn’t human. They got ghost confirmation via the fenton parents after the public reveal, but had already informed the fentons of the possibility of danny being a ghost and proposed the ‘Truman Plan’ to them.

The plan was to set up another ghost portal with coordinates set to the same area the fenton’s portal lets out and recapture whichever ghosts danny lets go there, and this works exponentially well. They gain a bunch of speech capable ghosts to experiment on, and decide quickly that they’d start ways to put them under control and make them stronger, in order to, eventually, capture danny.

Phase Two is weakening Danny and looking into his skillset and how to counteract it.

Phase Three is actually capturing Danny.

Danny figures out that the GIW has agents everywhere, bugs everywhere and nowhere is safe. The only people he is absolutely certain he can trust to not make the GIW aware he knows he’s entrapped is Jazz, Sam, And Tucker, but since the last tw oare in the bounds of the GIW, he can only talk to Jazz to plan (he flies up up up and calls because tucker had them up on a private network so the only risk was being overheard, really)

B only discovered the GIW while passing over recent government records, and sets up one of his disguises to visit the town, eventually.

He ‘just so happens’ to be bowled over by Danny Fenton one afternoon and sets up a white noise generator to tell the boy the JL was on his side. After all, something wasn’t right, here.

[samwinchesterswifu]

Linger pt 2 (Sam Winchester x Reader Angst) (Dean Winchester x Reader Smut)

Season 4 x Episode 22 - Lucifer Rising

Song Inspo: "Linger" by The Cranberries & "Magic Man" by Heart

Warnings: uh smut, p in v (wrap it up), uhm really fucking emotional? Uses of she/her prounouns and women body parts <3

MINORS DNI

A/N: holy. fucking. shit. this is my LONGEST fan fic EVER. im so damn proud of myself. Only took me 2 days to write. Now this isnt an exact episode re-write but there are like 3 scenes from the episode in here and I tried to change up the dialog a little bit so it wasnt exactly copy paste. I truly do love this story. please dont be mad at me lol. but uh yeah more than likely pt 3 coming soon.

Word Count: 3.767k

Summary: Sam goes off with Ruby to stop the seals from breaking, what can she do in the mean time?

She sits on the edge of  Bobby’s couch. Her left foot tapping away as she begins to chew her fingers in anticipation. Dean had found him, and instead of her coming along with him, Dean felt it was best for her to stay behind incase things got out of control. The old farm house was deafeningly quiet. Bobby had gone off to calm down after recovering from the shot-gun hit, leaving her alone. It must’ve been around two, or three am but she didn’t care. Sleep was a second thought. What felt like years swimming in her own personal hell, the familiar roar of the Impala pulls into the graveled drive finally separating from her thoughts. She rises from her position and makes her way outside. As she opens the door, Dean is climbing out of the Impala. A serge of panic rises through her once seeing his beat up face. She races down the steps grabbing onto his chin to inspect. Dean groans at the contact.

“What the hell happened?” She asked sternly.

“We got into it.” Dean states rolling his eyes as she continued to examine.

“No shit,” she replies, a snicker sharp on her tongue.

 Dean grabs a hold of her wrist stopping her from further jerking his head back and forth. He sighs and locks eyes with her.

“What Dean?” She asks bluntly annoyed by his grasp.

“He was with Ruby.” Dean states as his eyes shift to an apologetic glow underneath the tall street light that loomed over them.

“Figures,” she scoffs, breaking away from Dean’s grip.

She takes a step back from him, wiping her palms against the rough fabric of her jeans.

“I told him not to come back.” Dean spats out.

Her head shoots up to look at him.

“You did WHAT?” She exclaims. Her fists clench, wanting so badly to add to the poor guys face.

“You heard me.” Dean states, arms crossing over his chest.

“You can’t just make that decision for the both of us!” She screams, and pushes him sharply, enough for him to stumble.

“Well I did! You listen to me, he’s not good for you, I’m so sick and tired of watching you be drunk off him when all he does is treat you like shit!” Dean yells at her. Leaving her completely dumbfounded.

“And what gives you the fucking authority to make that decision for me huh?” She raises her voice to match his, stepping toe-to-toe, staring him down.

In a split second, Dean’s hands where cuffing her cheeks and he brings her in for a searing kiss. His lips where sweet but salty, the faint taste of copper mixing in, presumably from the cut on his bottom lip. After a few seconds, she realizes that she was in fact kissing Dean and pulls away. Her hands rested on his shoulders. She looks at him completely shocked. But deep down, she liked it. It was nice to finally have some sort of human connection. At this point, she wasn’t sure if Sam would ever be back in her life and if he would love her enough to be with her. Weighing her options, she reconnects her lips to Deans.

They battle for dominance, teeth clashing as she plays with the hair on the nape of his neck. Dean groans as she tugs on his strands. His sounds leaving her breathless and needy. Dean breaks contact and begins to travel kisses across her cheek, and down her neck. Nibbling harshly at a spot below her ear that made her squirm. His hands traveled down her sides and he taps the curve underneath her ass. Realizing his signal, she jumps. Wrapping her legs tightly against his waist as he holds her steady. Dean reconnects their lips as he begins to walk. But not towards the house. She breaks contact for a brief moment to see where he was headed. He was headed towards the shop.

She locks eyes with Dean. Her gut screaming about whether or not this was the right decision. In this moment, she truly didn’t care. In this moment, Dean seemed like the perfect treat. His features shined against the moonlight and his green eyes were electrified. Her head was spinning by the power Dean seemed to hold at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, Dean could take care of her, treat her right. And that maybe was what she held on to.

She reconnects their lips as they enter the shop. Dean holds her with one arm as he pushes the shop door partially closed. Never once breaking their kiss. He walks her over to shop couch, pushing off the blanket that laid on the seat and some wrenches. They break away as he lays her down. Quickly discarding his shirt on the floor in the process. She does the same and Dean just stares at her.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Taking in her glow. Bobby had left on one of the lamps that were hanging over one of the current cars on the jacks. It was just enough light for them to see each other.

Dean dips down, pulling her breast into his mouth. His mouth was warm and inviting. Moaning at the contact that she didn’t even know she craved. His right hand engulfed her right breast as his tongue played with her left nipple. She squirms against him as soft mewls of pleasure leave her lips. After he seems satisfied with himself, he leans back from her chest. Dean toys with the button of her jeans, after struggling for a bit, he pulls them off gracefully. Groaning at the sight in front of him.

“I don’t know how anyone can pass you up,” he says licking his lips.

A deep blush forms across her cheeks. Its been so long hearing any sort of praise and her soul was being replenished.

As Dean starts to fumble with his belt, she reaches up to help him. Unzipping his jeans, she pushes down his boxers to find him fully erect. She expected Dean to have some length to him, but fuck was he girthy. She wraps her hand around him, slowly pumping. Dean dips his head back in pleasure. She picks up her pace, wiping the pre-cum from his tip to help with the friction. A moan leaves Dean’s lips as she does this and the heat in her core becomes unbearable. She stops, and Dean looks at her completely blissed out from just the slightest touch.

Dean looks at her as if to ask she was okay with this, and if she was ready. She nods and Dean takes a quick moment to kick off his jeans. He places himself back in between her legs and pushes aside her underwear. Dean grabs on to her hips and aligns himself with her. She grabs onto his bicep as he begins to push inside. Both of them seething at the contact. Her grip tightens as he stretches her earning a groan from the man. Dean is slow with it, inching closer and closer until he was completely inside. Both of them moaning at the feeling. She felt so full that it was making her dizzy.

Once allowing her a few moments to adjust to his length, Dean unleashes a brutal attack. His thrust start off fast and hard. Her moans fill up the shop and she prayed that no one was outside to hear her. Dean was a god, he moved exactly the right away and kept his pace steadily. Her first orgasm came within minutes. The second one falling behind shortly after.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking, goo-“ Dean grunts. Being cut off with his own thrust.

The opposite hand from holding himself steady rose and grasped around her throat. This fucking man knew how to choke someone. The pressure from his grasp makes her third orgasm more violent than the first. Her moans turned into screams as he just continued on his attack.  A fourth and fifth orgasm rippled through her bones. Her eyes swelled with tears at the immense amount of pleasure she was being supplied.

However, Dean’s thrust became more and more unstable. He was close and she wanted to milk every last drop out of him.

“Cum in me, please,” she grasps out in between moans.

Dean looks at her bewildered by her request but nods.

“Okay, okay, fuck-“ Dean thrusts a few more times before he fills her up completely. His orgasm bringing on her final one at the same time.

Both of them sit there for a moment, Dean was still inside of her as they catch their breaths. Their eyes lock for a moment and both let out a small laugh. Dean slowly pulls out of her, both moaning at the loss of contact. Dean takes a moment before grabbing his and her pants from the floor tossing them to her. Slipping them on, she grabs her discarded shirt and throws it back on as Dean does the same. She was completely wiped by this point. She yawns, and Dean takes note of it. Grabbing the shop blanket that was thrown about, he motions behind her. Surprised by his actions, she allows Dean to settle behind her as he throws the shop blanket across them. He stretches out his right arm to allow her to use it as a pillow as his left arm lays across her waist. She snuggles close to him and starts to drift to sleep feeling protected.

The morning sun peaks through the crack of the shop door, shining just right to stir her from slumber. She blinks her eyes open, looking around to figure out her surroundings as last night’s memories play back. She notices that Dean was no longer behind her and no where in the shop to be found. She sighs, tossing the shop blanket to the side and makes her way back towards the house, seeing Bobby’s car back in the drive. She groans at the thought of having to explain herself to Bobby. But as she gets closer to the house she can hear yelling from inside.

“Don’t make me get my gun boy,” Bobby’s voice of retribution laces through the hallways as she makes her way inside. It was unsettling to hear Bobby stern.

“We are damn near kick off for Armageddon, don’t you think we got bigger fish to fry?” she can hear Dean state from the living room as she makes her presence known. Both men looking towards her as she does so.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bobby asks sternly, arms crossing over his chest.

“I, uh-“ she stutters, pointing towards the door, unsure of how to explain she fell asleep in the shop.

Dean looks up at her innocently, shaking his head as if to say to not say a damn word.

“Never mind.” Bobby huffs.

She gulps, her throat stuffed with anxiety.

“I know you’re pissed, and I’m not making apologies for what he’s done, but he’s your-“

“Blood? He’s my blood, is that what you’re gunna say?” Dean cuts Bobby and he sighs in response.

“He’s your brother.” Bobby states,

“And he’s drowning,” the old man sighs looking between the both of them. Nodding his head towards Dean’s direction to try to get her to weigh in on the situation.

“Maybe Bobbys right Dean, he needs our help.” She chimes in, a groan leaving Dean’s lips at her response.

“I tried to help him Y/N, I already did.” Dean replies.

“So try again.” Bobby rebuttals. However he takes notes of how uneasy Dean had became once she entered the house.

“Did something happen between you two?” Bobby asks, looking at Dean. Dean shoots her a panicked look as Bobby shoots a glare towards her.

“No, no- we’re fine,” she comments. Bobby makes a soft “uh huh” under his breath clearly not believing them.

“it’s too late-“ Dean states as he strides towards the stair case.

“There’s no such thing,” Bobby says trying any way he can to get Dean to calm down.

“No, damn it!” Dean shouts. He was evidently annoyed by this whole conversation.

“No.” He sighs, the man was stubborn  she’d give him that.

“Look, we got to face the facts. Sam never wanted to be apart of this family. He hated our life growing up. Ran away to school first chance he got. Now it’s like Déjà VU all over again.” Dean shifts on the edge of his heels as he leans down to sit on the couch behind him.

“Well I am sick and tired of chasing after him, you should be too.” Dean pauses, point directly at her.

“Screw him, he can do what he wants.” Dean sneers.

“You don’t mean that-“ Bobby starts before getting cut off again by Dean.

“Yes I do Bobby,” he sighs. “Sammy’s gone.”

“I’m not even sure if he’s still my brother anymore. If ever was,” Dean’s voice cracks at the pain. A deep look forms over his eyes, a sad one. It hurt her to see him so distraught over Sam, because she was too.

Bobby pushes himself off his desk, pacing back and forth before suddenly throwing everything off of it.

“You stupid, stupid son of a bitch!” Bobby yells and Dean rises to meet him. She backs away from them honestly a bit scared from the interaction.

“Well boohoo! I am so sorry your feelings are hurt princess! Are you under the impression that family supposed to make you feel good? Bake you an apple pie maybe? They’re supposed to make you miserable! That’s why they’re family!” Bobby screams, stomping his foot in frustration.

“I told him that if he walked out that door to not come back, and that’s what he did Bobby!” Dean yells back, walking past him as his fist clenches.

“You sound like a brat-“ Bobby mocking in his response.

“No,” Dean whispers coming near her, and his back facing Bobby. Unsure of how to comfort him in the moment.

“You sound like John. Well let me tell you something, John was a coward.” Bobby states.

“You are a better man than your daddy ever was.” Bobby replies, Dean snickers in bewilderment.  

“Don’t be him.” Bobby’s words cut through her. Growing up around John Winchester taught her a lot about how not to be a family and she was starting to regret pushing Sam away.

She could see Dean thinking, and he looks to her with pleading eyes begging for help in those moment. She shook her head, and dean scoffed again turning to face Bobby when suddenly he was gone.

“Dean?!” She screeches, her voice cracking in the process. Both her and Bobby looking frantically around the house.

“Oh, balls!” Bobby yells, kicking the side of his desk.

But just as suddenly Dean disappeared, Castiel stood before her.

“Hello Y/N,” Castiel greets her, looking towards Bobby giving him a nod.

“Where the hell is Dean Castiel!” She asks ready to take on the angel in front of her.

“We have him, it’s almost time.” Castiel bluntly replies.

“We? You mean the angels have him?” She asks a new wave of panic sifts through her blood stream.

“Yes, we have him, don’t worry he’s safe.” Castiel states. Before she could respond Castiel was gone again.

She screams in frustration, grabbing the nearest book and tossing it in the direction where the angel once stood.

“Here,” Bobby says tapping her shoulder and handing her a glass of whiskey.

“Thanks,” she responds. Taking in a heaping swig to off set her nerves.

Setting down the cup, she lays down on the closest couch stretching her legs out and sighing at todays events.

“So, what happened between you two?” Bobby asks again this time really letting on that he needed to know.

“I did something stupid Bobby.” She replies reaching over to the cup of whiskey taking another sip before continuing.

“Dean and I slept together.” She blurts out. Groaning at the thought of last night.

“You did what?” Bobby asks, a sliver of disbelief hanging on his tongue.

“Yeah, last night, in your- in your shop.” She grunts out. Letting out another huff in embarrassment.

“You stupid stupid girl! Seriously! Dean of ALL people?” Bobby yells making her jump at his sudden voice raise.

“I know Bobby-“ She starts before getting cut off.

“I don’t think you understand woman, if Sam finds and he will, he’s gunna be pissed.” Bobby snickers taking back the cup that he had previously handed to her. A quick ‘hey!’ at his action leaves her lips.

“What were you thinking?” Bobby sighs shaking his head at her.

“I was upset too Bobby, Sam’s made it evident that he doesn’t want to be with me.” She shrugs. Completely drained by everything that’s happened over the last 48 hours.

“He does want to be with you, you idjit.” Bobby tells her bluntly. Almost as if they were repeating the same conversation as before, but centered on her this time.

“No he doesn’t Bobby,” she responds, tears choking up her words as she fight back all the hurt she experienced because of the youngest Winchester.

“Yes he does Y/N, that kid is so madly in love with you he’s doing all of this for you- to give you a better world, I know his actions doesn’t seem it but that’s what he doing kiddo, for you.” Bobby says, handing her back the previously taken whiskey glass.

She lays there silently for a moment before taking another sip of the glass. She doesn’t respond to Bobby before sitting up and pushing her self off the couch. Grabbing her cellphone that laid on the side table, she makes her way outside. She walks around to the shop to get some privacy incase Bobby came looking.

Taking a deep breath, she calls Sam’s cellphone. After a few rings its sent to voice mail where she hesitates for a quick moment of what she was going to say.

“Sammy,” she starts, taking another deep breath before continuing.

“You don’t have to do this. Come back to Bobby’s please, we’ll figure out another way, you and me, come back to me, please. My sweet boy please, just come back to me.” She finishes the phone call.

Her heart ached, frustrated and annoyed with herself. How could she be so stupid and go behind Sam’s back like that? The sun was almost rested in the sky at this point in the evening, the moon peaking over the tower of cars that laid in the salvage yard. She decides to go back inside, wanting to distract herself with cooking something at the very least.

But as she turns around to start her way back, she is met with Castiel and Dean in front of her. Dean tries to say something before Castiel is grabbing her and before she can protest they were standing in front of the prophet Chuck.

“God damn it Cas!” She yells, stumbling, and trying to catch her balance.

“Oh this isn’t supposed to be happening-“ Chuck says while simultaneously on the phone.

“No- lady this is definitely supposed to be happening, but I uh, I gotta call you back.” Chuck says to the woman on the phone before disconnecting the call.

“St. Marys? What is that a convent?” Dean asks reading over the newly written Supernatural Script.

“Yeah but-but you guys aren’t supposed to be there.” Chuck responds. “You’re not in this story,” he finishes, completely flustered by their arrival.

“We’re making it up as we go.” Cas states. Dean looks between the angel and her, also confused by the angels actions. She shrugs at his glance.

Then, the familiar sound of angel static and bright lights fill the room.

“Oh no not this again!” Chuck groans, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“It’s the archangel!” Castiel screams over the sound.  A wave of panic flushes Dean’s features and he looks like he is a bout to pass out from the sheer rush of adrenaline.

“I’ll hold them off, just stop Sam!” Castiel yells, looking between her and Dean.

Touching both of them at the same time, they’re transported to a new location. Dean takes a moment to look around to realize that they’re at the convent. He grabs a hold of her hand and starts to walk down the hallway in front of them. The round a corner to find Sam and Ruby in the main chapel room with Lilith on  the ground. Ruby turns to look at the two and smirks. A deep scrawl forms on both of their faces, preparing to kill the demon bitch. With a flick of her wrist, Ruby closes the door on them.

Rushing to the door way, they both start to bang on the old wooden doors. Yelling his name at the top of their lungs. She pushes Dean out of the way and uses her whole body weight against the door to try to pry it open. She was desperate at this point, tears threatened to break loose from her lashes. Wanting nothing more than to save him.

“Move!” Dean yells. Turning around she see’s him holding a statue and she grabs a hold of it. The two of them ram the door open and Ruby turns to face them.  

Grabbing the demon knife from Dean’s pocket she strides towards Ruby.

“You’re too late.” Ruby laughs.

“I don’t care,” she snickers back.

Sam stands up quickly, grabbing a hold of  Rubys arms as she makes the final blow. Twisting the knife to make sure she was truly dead. Ruby starts to flash out, and sick smile forms on her lips as she watches.

Ruby finally drops dead and Sam pushes Ruby to the side. Sam takes a moment to look at her, and Dean before resting on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Sam chokes out.

He takes a step forward and his hands come to cuff her cheeks, bringing her in for a quick kiss. The ground beings to rumble as a bright light shoots from the center. This throws off their balance making her fall into Sam. Dean looks between the two of them, his words stuck on his throat unsure of what to say. They all three turn to look at the hole that was beginning to form. Dean grabs onto both of them frantically.

“Y/N, Sammy, lets go-“ Dean spats out. Sam grabs on to Dean, staring down the light.

“Dean?” Sammy asks and Dean looks to him concerned.

Sam chokes on broken tears.

“He’s coming-“

[fierrochase-falafel]

Making a case for Xie Lian's complex morality in TGCF

Finally getting over myself and getting this one out of the drafts...

Disclaimer: Any MXTX book has a very divided fandom on whether practically all the characters are "good" or not- Hua Cheng, Xie Lian, Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, Pei Ming, Luo Binghe. I feel the way MXTX writes is such that our own interpretation of the book can grow to be the very thing we love about it. So naturally I am going to start off by saying this is my interpretation of her work- you can disagree with me, sure, and I'd love to hear other people's thoughts, but I don't think it is something worth calling me wrong over. I'm not claiming to preach the 1 true reading or even claiming to be 'correct'- this is just my interpretation. This doesn't mean I don't find value in alternate interpretations, contradictory or otherwise. Please be nice to me!! :,)

Part I: Smart, but not smart

So anyways...there's this quote in book 3, when Xie Lian reveals Ling Wen as the creator of the Brocade Immortal, where this happens:

Ling Wen crossed her arms and shook her head. “Your Highness, someone like you…sometimes you’re smart, but sometimes you’re also not very smart; sometimes you’re soft-hearted, but sometimes you’re cold-hearted, too.”

And I've always loved this quote, it's arguably one of my favourites, because it emphasises what I think is the core of the story- to ascend is human, to fall is also human. What matters is appreciating that humanity, and nobody embodies this like Xie Lian. MXTX always pits together contradictions like this throughout the story: ascension with falling, soft-hearted with cold-hearted, laughing with crying. Humanity is a series of contradictions, and Xie Lian is the epitome of that. We see him saving a child with regal presence/grace and also drunkenly yelling swear words in a ditch; we see him calmly ascend to godhood at 17 and also almost violently kill a guy for insulting his street performance. Xie Lian is a man who can be kind, calm, endearing and spirited but also vengeful, bitter, jaded and broken. He has been naive and impulsive as well as strategic and controlled.

These differences often seem to happen at the same time in him, even. Xie Lian as a prince was still relatively calm and controlled, but it didn't stop him from being naive and desperate at various points too- sometimes at the same time. His decision in the Land of the Tender (T/W- to stab himself) was arguably a sign of him losing control of his senses yet remaining just on the cusp of controlling his actions. He is holding on to his no-sex cultivation by saying the Ethics Sutra and making the impulsive decision to turn his sword on himself voluntarily but also reacting sexually to the flower demons involuntarily. He is placed in situations where he is distinctly both in and out of control at the same time! Later when he's lying in a ditch (T/W- having stabbed himself AGAIN), there's a lens to it that he's waiting for someone to be kind to him, just once. He's optimistic in giving people a chance- hopeful and altruistic on some level while also being angry and bitter at nobody having helping him yet. In present day he's still impulsive at times but also level-headed, jaded and also optimistic. Hua Cheng fully recognises this in him, and his recognition of Xie Lian's utter humanity is what makes him the one person who truly understands Xie Lian.

"Your Highness, I understand your everything. Your courage, your despair; your kindness, your pain; your resentment, your hate; your intelligence, your foolishness."- Hua Cheng

Part II: Mass murder is...a big deal

Xie Lian is nowhere near perfect, like Feng Xin tends to see him, but neither is he just pretending to be altruistic to make people like him, as Mu Qing tends to believe. Both of them have these ideas in their heads of Xie Lian being amazing or awful, when really Xie Lian has the potential to be both, and that's what makes him, ultimately, just a human above all else. And Hua Cheng gets that about him, more than anyone else, which is important. Hua Cheng loves him and believes in him not because he is inherently, fundamentally good but because of who he is entirely. Part of that 'being' for Xie Lian is trying not to indulge his worst emotions, trying to be good as much as he can, but part of that 'being' includes parts of him that can't be perceived as 'good'. See, no matter how traumatised you are, and even though I'm not judging Xie Lian for his mental state, choking some man on the street almost to death is a no-go, okay.

Xie Lian's will to keep to his principles of what is right and wrong is one thing, but TGCF stretches these boundaries over and over as we watch Xie Lian's view evolve from being a child. I don't think Xie Lian is a 'good person' because he never strays from his values, because he does. Save the common people? The people of Yong'an he intended to mass massacre were the 'common people'. And yes he tried to save them before, and yes it took very little to make him not massacre the people of Yong'an, but the fact that this was something he started at all? He himself used Fangxin to collect the souls from the battlefield- no matter how much he subconsciously wanted to believe in the worth of humanity with his self-stabbing social experiment, he created the conditions necessary to commit mass murder and that in itself is a sign that a part of him meant to go through with it. This isn't just a byproduct of his rage, a response befitting of an uncaring society, no, this is a big deal, and I don't think we can still argue Xie Lian is / has always been a beacon of virtue. Xie Lian isn't just flawed in ways that are easy to forgive, it's not just that he's inherently 'good' with flaws such as impulsivity or naivety that do not really reflect on his moral character. He is also morally flawed, in a way all humans can be but may find it hard to recognise within themselves.

To be fair to the guy, most humans don't have their kingdoms destroyed, their bodily autonomy violated and all their loved ones gone from their lives. Particularly not the first one. For trauma of such epic proportions and disasters of such epic proportions, this intense of a response to commit mass murder isn't shocking. Given his exposure to all this power through his godhood and descent, the power to commit mass murder is less massive-seeming than needing the power to save his own people from it. Given the deaths of so many Xianle inhabitants, this is almost an eye-for-an-eye response: something which some people or cultures may see as morally righteous (the Locrians in Ancient Greece were huge on this, for instance) and some see as morally wrong. However, the way I see it that does not make potential mass murder easily ethically justifiable. MXTX doesn't shy away from giving us insight into Xie Lian's vulnerable and broken mental state and reasons for attempting this, but his actions are still consequential in a huge way. Had he committed the murder; had he not been pulled up by the farmer or had he not found it in him to stop, would we view him as morally good? Could we? What if he did murder the Yong'an citizens but then realised how awful that was then, and spent the rest of his life trying to be good? It feels a bit like a cop-out to say, "well, he didn't do it so that's that", because even the idea, the intention of him doing it and the fact it almost happened raises so many questions about how much blame would be attribute to him if the people of Yong'an really were killed. Even if Xie Lian hadn't done it himself: if he failed to stop Bai Wuxiang from killing them all, for instance. If he were stabbed over and over again but his body couldn't take it, if the rest of the people of Yong'an weren't willing to stab him, and Wu Ming didn't take the bullet then what? It's not like Bai Wuxiang had any reason to go out of his way to call the spirits of Yong'an to Fangxin, for to him the biggest matter was getting Xie Lian to do it and solidify the latter's allegiance to resentment and apathy (just like himself). That would have been done by Xie Lian's hand, and how much the consequences would lay on Xie Lian's head is really difficult to think about. Even if he'd have done his utmost to stop it, but it would've happened atleast partially because of him.

Part III: Morality measured

It's interesting to consider how we measure morality as individuals- somewhere in-between intentions and consequences we diverge, and this tension is what fuels MXTX's conflicts. This is why it's so hard to assign blame in TGCF. Shi Wudu's intentions with the fate-swap were not malicious at all but the consequences for He Xuan were utterly disastrous, and that's on Shi Wudu. Quan Yizhen's intentions were never to make Yin Yu feel bad, but his obliviousness and shining talent hurt Yin Yu anyways. Of course, Yin Yu was the one who kept silent until he couldn't take it anymore, and said the worst possible thing at the worst possible time even if all he wanted was to be nice to Quan Yizhen and not project his feelings onto him. Book 3 contains an increase in these dynamics where the intentions and consequences are SO vastly incongruent that it plays with what morality means, encouraging you to ask: "Who do you believe was in the right?" "Do you think anyone here is or isn't entitled to what they want?" "Is there any way to objectively assign blame here, or are some scenarios too complicated for there to be a direct conflict of right and wrong?" So when it comes to Xie Lian, all that he could have been and all that he is, book 4 naturally stretches the limits of his heart being in paradise.

In conversations I have had or opinions I've seen on this platform and others, people's opinions on how much Xie Lian caused aspects of his own downfall range from "he did absolutely nothing wrong ever" to "he was the epitome of hubris and ignorance", the latter usually accompanied by a favourable analysis towards another character such as Mu Qing. When getting into MDZS, I was reminded of this when seeing Wei Wuxian-Jiang Cheng discourse actually, people talking about Wei Wuxian as a model of goodness who never hurt anyone unless his hand was forced (as if the Wen Chao toruture scene didn't happen) or as an irresponsible and disloyal rascal (as if he wasn't protecting defenseless people including JC's rescuers in the Burial Mounds). This sort of range can be seen with many characters in TGCF: particularly with Xie Lian, Hua Cheng and Mu Qing but you also get many for Jun Wu, He Xuan, Shi Wudu and the like. Xie Lian, as the main character, is possibly the most complicated of them all. The series is in his perspective, he recognises and regrets both his glory days and his fall from grace- the former due to his naivety and the latter due to his resentment. Since then all of the plots he has involved himself in have involved him taking on as much of the pain as physically possible for himself because his desire to help other people flourished again alongside and mingled with his shame and lasting trauma. He is ashamed of both his highest and lowest moments for not being able to offset the consequences, but while you're reading the story it feels very often like there's nothing else he could have done. Partially because (although this is debatable imo) this is somewhat from his perspective despite the 3rd person narrative, so we know what he's like before anyone else. Plus, with how book 2 plays out like a classic tragedy where his greatest strength (will to help his people despite tradition) becomes his greatest weakness, it's the age-old question of how much he can be held accountable for his kingdom's downfall or how much was completely out of his control or in the hands of fate.

One take I remember very strongly that was quite popular was about MXTX's characters being ultimately morally good characters, in which Xie Lian's character was said to not change or develop. Rather, Xie Lian has always been inherently morally good and TGCF is about the world around him not rewarding that goodness yet Xie Lian remaining good and pure-hearted all the way through no matter what, even in his darkest times. While this may be an interpretation some people have, I think it's more complicated than that. Xie Lian's morality was seemingly very clear-cut in book 2 because he had no huge reason not to be 'good'. Yeah sure, he was chastised for saving a child during the lantern festival parade, but nothing was genuinely going to happen to him. He was the crown prince! The stakes for him were never as high, and he had no reason to believe he could fail at all. When put to the test, given the fact he did set up the conditions for the immediate slaughter of Yong'an, I don't think any goodness automatically present in his character was being channelled in his decision. Morality can be as easy as "I want to always do what's right" when you have money and security, but becomes more difficult when you're consumed by grief and rage, or when you've lost everything you once had. Morality is more than an inherent aspect to one's character, and how we perceive someone's moral nature depends on their intentions, their choices, the consequences of those choices and whether they accept responsibility and accountability for the other 3 things.

Part IV: Complexity is the key

Having said all this, I hope it's clear I am NOT saying Xie Lian is an immoral character. In fact, I WOULD argue that he is a 'good' person, that is, a person who embodies what goodness would look like despite all the complications involved. What I'm saying here is that he is a good person not because he always sticks to his standards/beliefs, or even that he always believes in his own standards, but because he chooses to try to believe. In humanity, in the power of his own actions, in the kindness of strangers after he was shown kindness once himself. And this is something earned and learned, not something he had in the beginning. In the beginning it came natural to him because he had the privilege of that as Crown prince. "If something goes wrong, I'll fix it, and everyone around me will always be looking out for my best interests even if I disagree with them. Murder is wrong, following the path to ascension is the ultimate good." etc. etc. When he has to face the world as someone with nothing, those are the experiences that mould his current day understanding of why people do the things they do even if they seem completely morally wrong. Why people would stab someone knowing they would feel the pain, why people would murder someone, why they might steal or rage or drink. And in most cases, it can be hard to judge someone as completely morally wrong for doing actions deemed morally wrong if you believe intention has any bearing on morality.

Xie Lian to me is not inherently good, but someone who chooses to try to be a good person, thus arguably being a good person. And I would defend him as such on that premise, not because his righteous morals have remained static and intact throughout the novels. It isn't that he didn't choose to be good as a child, but he didn't really have to TRY because he hadn't faced the sort of crisis that shook his foundations and forced him to grow, understanding and adapting to the complexity of living in the real world. Where you fail, where falling upon hard times can force you to resort to things you once thought beneath you. Where your actions have power over your circumstances, but your circumstances also hold power over you whether you like it or not. The root of Xie Lian's compelling character, for me, is in his growth from a man with a static morality to a man with moral complexity. A belief in one's principles that accounts for its limits and recognises its flaws in the face of circumstance, and adapts accordingly. It's not like Xie Lian wanted to betray and murder the Yong'an king who was so kind to him, and to actively do that seems pretty horrible until you remember he did it to save a whole group of people, Xianle descendants. Xie Lian still blames himself for this in book 1 even though in this act he saved numerous civilians, but Hua Cheng reminds him that he made that choice for a good reason, and has faith in Xie Lian's choices.

Speaking of the devil...Hua Cheng, even though he loves all of Xie Lian, does not love him blindly or without consideration of the worst parts of himself. He would follow Xie Lian into the abyss of his mental state but still try to help Xie Lian out of the sort of guilt, back from the point of no return. One interpretation of his refusal to let Xie Lian kill Lang Ying is that he wanted Xie Lian to not have Lang Ying's blood on his hands as well. If this would affect any future cultivation or make him feel any more guilty in the future. He also tried to gently tell Xie Lian that he still has believers to calm him down when he sees the white flower. However, to Hua Cheng, whatever Xie Lian would've chosen in the end would still be a decision taken by the same Xie Lian, and Hua Cheng would follow Xie Lian no matter whether he's engaged in the worst parts of himself or not. I think it's very easy for us to assign a specified amount of goodness to a character based on just 1 thing- be it just their intentions or just their choices or just the consequences of their actions. A few sample assumptions I've seen (that do not reflect wider society or anything, these are just opinions I've seen around online): To want to save people is good, therefore Xie Lian is good. Hua Cheng has no qualms about killing 33 gods for Xie Lian, so he must be amoral. But the nature of what is good is variable- under the light of different interpretations, Xie Lian is more morally grey and Hua Cheng is more morally inclined than those assumptions would give them credit for. My point essentially is that many characters, but Xie Lian in particular, are more complicated than we sometimes give them credit for. It's also why he's so easily put up against Jun Wu- someone who is the antagonist and committed several heinous crime, but also parallels what Xie Lian at his worst could have been. If Jun Wu really did repent on everyone he damaged at the end of the novels, you can't call him a good person just based on newfound intent and he can't be so easily forgiven, but to imply alternatively that after all he's done he will always be a bad man and that's that...doesn't sit right with me either. Of course, the question of Jun Wu seems even more complicated somehow, funnily enough.

I think when I first read TGCF years back, Xie Lian is the character who showed me not to judge multidimensional characters or people on a consistent metric of goodness but rather on numerous aspects of how they live that can change over time and leaves room for circumstantial flexibility. I also think that acknowledging complexity in how we view morality in each other can allow us to gain a better understanding of what it is to be a human. And in my view, what makes Xie Lian such a well-written character is that he's nothing if not a human.

[hostdoozy]

The horrifying implications of Meat Sweats powers.

Rupert (mainly known as meat sweats) is possibly one of my favourite side-villains within Rottmnt as of this moment. Down his writing and animation, the Gordon Ramsey parody is an absolute delight to watch.

Something about his mannerisms is beyond fascinating to me. He's a double threat, both cunning and robust. I could go on about for hours about this overgrown porky pig characteristic and how he is so much more than the very thing he is parodying.

But I'll spare you that mercy and focus on ONE aspect of his character.

His mutant powers. (read more down below)

In 'Nothing but Truffle' we get a lot of insight into how his abilities function. Using the strange tendrils that make up his arm and hands, he can latch onto his prey and suck out their 'essences'. Temporarily possessing his victim's powers while his victim is either immobilized or die after the process (implied). The key word here is "Temporarily" During the episode, after Mikey is betrayed by the British Meatbag we get this little exchange between the two.

"B-but- i thought you were nice now?" "Oh. that wore off hours ago...and by the way, you play lousy mandoline" This shows us, that once he absorbs his victim's powers- throughout the course of an entire day- they only last for a short period. This shows us, that his mutant form can quickly burn off "essences". why is this horrifying? I'll get into it soon enough, sit tightly. Let's us examine what exactly he IS absorbing.

We see that whenever Rupert is absorbing something- it is always GREEN and you what else is green? Empyrean. the source of yokai power, the ingredient used to create mutants. His mutant form requires Empyrean. What do I mean by "require"? well then. We established that Rupert can quickly burn off Empyrean after absorbing it. now i'd like to point out something to you. Notice how Rupert is often described as "cannibalistic" or "vampiric" by other characters, merch and even concept artwork. Notice how often he hunts, he jumps at any opportunity to catch any prey. See how within the show, there are many instances of him having cages upon cages of mutant/yokai saved for special occasions. Almost like, he NEEDS a constant onslaught of Empyrean not because he enjoys the power that comes with it but rather, out of necessity. It is VERY possible that his Mutant form needs it to survive. Normal food won't simply cut it, He hungers for yokai and mutants alike.

So is that it? seems pretty simple enough, right? AHAHAHAHAHA NO MY DEAR READER, WE ARE NOT DONE YET! you are stuck here with me. I had a shocking revelation, one that seemed rather far-fetch but please bear with me.

Rupert has minimal control of his powers.

When the metal gauntlets come off, Rupert cannot control what his tendrils can absorb. An example of this is featured is once again, in "Nothing but Truffle". The second Mikey pulled Rupert's arm to the weretree, the tendrils began draining it upon contact- against Rupert's will. He can't stop it. This is just one of the many instances of it. We know that Rupert can form "claws" with his tendrils based on this one Ep but this is the only time it happens. Usually, they are untangled instead of interconnected

While this could just be an animation inconsistency- please just. indulge me for a moment. Rupert is known as most dangerous mutant according to Tmnt and there's good reason for this. Despite Ruperts disadvantages, he is capable of working AROUND them. He is dangerous not because of his mutant abilities but for his intelligence. we the viewer don't suspect it because He is capable of making split-second decisions within a fight. Rupert is competent in many others ways that we overlook and mislead into thinking he's in full control of his powers. (Idk if he's autistic but he'd be a master at masking lol)

So NOW why is this horrifying?

Keep in mind. Rupert was a human- a shitty one but still human regardless. His mutation wasn't by choice. His cannibalism wasn't a choice. Imagine, you are at the height of your career and in the middle of your show- in front of an entire audience- you suddenly feel a pinch. everything is painful. Your body contorts into a horrific pigish amalgamation in a matter of minutes. The world has its eyes on you. people are watching. All you see is RED.

You've become a monster.

Once the red is gone. All that is left is the hunger. You are reduced to nothing more than a creature lurking within the shadows. A wall is put between you and the remaining semblance of your old life. Everything you work for, Gone. Left to rot away.

No matter how many scraps you pull out of NYC's trash piles. You are still hungry. This disgusting form of yours demands more. The only thing you can do to survive. is give in. indulge. you didn't just become a monster. you ARE the monster.

Whether or not Rupert was deserving of this faith is up in the air. We know that he's always been an Asshole. (both Mikey and himself go on to confirm this)

This isn't meant to suddenly paint Rupert in a sympathetic light nor be an attempt to "redeem" his actions. Far from it. This is meant to further insight into him as a villain and why he acts the way he does. Rupert still values his humanity. Rupert resorts to extreme measures to ensure his own comfortability and his legacy (i.e his restaurant) but thats a topic for another day.

To finally conclude this tangent. While Rupert is scummy sod, the situation he's forced into is unsettling when you sit down and think about it. If anything. he might have become a bigger asshole due to his mutation. (now excuse me- im going step inside this man's food truck and kiss him)

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 21 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary - you and Spencer both make decisions you can’t come back from.

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - past sexual abuse of a child, swearing, tears, murder, cheating, brief mention of oral (f receiving), vomit, pregnancy symptoms, double crossing, blood, stab wounds, death of a father, bruises, aggression, use of “whore”.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 21 - Miss Mysterious

The clock on the wall chimed twelve times in quick succession, echoing around the otherwise silent room. Spencer sat on the edge of the coffee table, the SIG still pointed at his father, who hadn’t moved from the armchair. 

He didn’t know what he was so hesitant about, he could have easily killed him by now and been out of the house and on his way back to Caesars but something was stopping him. 

Did he want an explanation? And even if he got one, nothing in the world could excuse what his dad had done to him or anyone else. His dad was a sick and twisted person who had abused his own son’s trust and ripped little pieces of his soul away every single time he crawled into his bed in the middle of the night. 

His fathers actions had affected him in more ways than he’d ever even realised. Of course there was the obvious, his building of walls, his inability to get close to people. It had taken until he was twenty six before he was intimate with a woman for the first time. And he’d shut himself in the bathroom afterwards and cried and it was a long time before sex didn’t make him that emotional. 

It had later manifested itself in his dominance in the bedroom. You weren’t the first person he’d treated that way in bed, it had become a pattern for him. He had to take back his power by being in control and never submitting to anyone else in that way again. In doing so he was able to harness his emotions afterwards and not have to indulge in a post-coital sob. 

But there were repercussions from his fathers abuse in which he had never really noticed until now. When he’d finally been pushed over the edge to kill, every single man he had ended the life of was simply a surrogate. Each one was around his father’s age, all violent and evil human beings. Each man was a substitute for the real target of his rage. A rage he hadn’t realised had been building for over thirty years until right now. 

William Reid was Spencer’s ultimate boogeyman, the monster lurking in every shadow. He was Spencer’s Goliath and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to slay him. He just had to focus and not let himself get dragged down this dark rabbit hole. But it may be too late. 

He could still hear the sound of a zipper cutting through his mind in that room that was supposed to be his place of solace. He could see his fathers manic eyes as they loomed over him in the darkness. He could feel those rough hands all over his body and hear his own cries which his father simply ignored.

Daddy, please! You don’t have to do this. 

He felt his hand shaking as he held the gun, hot tears pooling behind his eyes. He sniffed them back, not willing to give his father the satisfaction of seeing him cry again. He clenched his jaw firmly, grinding his teeth in a furious fashion and sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. 

“You ruined my life.” Spencer croaked, his voice so unlike himself.

“I made you stronger.” William countered, narrowing his eyes on Spencer. “I was teaching you how to be a man.”

“Oh yeah? And how is that?” Spencer’s brows furrowed in angry confusion.

“You were so weak, pathetic, really. You never would have been able to take care of yourself. I was showing you the harsh realities of the world, you needed to learn that to get by in this life you have to be strong, grow a thick skin. I helped you.” William shrugged.

“Helped me?” Spencer spat, hand shaking violently. “You think molesting me helped me?” 

“That’s such an ugly word, Spencer.” William rolled his eyes. “But yes.”

“You’re full of shit.” Spencer jumped to his feet, proffering the SIG closer to his dad. “Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night? That you fucking helped me? What about the other’s? Did you help them too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” William shrugged again. 

“Cut the crap, dad. I know there were other boys. A sexual predator doesn’t just stop unless someone stops him.” 

William slowly pushed himself up with the use of the arms of the chair. He was shorter than Spencer by a few inches, he’d gotten his height from his mother. Thankfully he’d gotten most things from his mom and not this man in front of him. 

“Let’s not talk about the others, Spencer.” William smiled at him. “You were the only one I cared about.” 

“Fuck you.” Spencer sniffed again as his eyes welled with tears once more. “You didn’t care about me. If you cared about me you wouldn’t have done what you did. I’m your son for fuck sake! You were supposed to keep me safe from monsters, not be one.”

“Of course I cared about you. I love you, Spencer.” William raised one arm and moved to stroke the side of Spencer’s face but Spencer quickly slapped him away with his free hand.

William, although frail looking, was fast and managed to grab Spencer by the wrist and circle his fingers around it. He noticed his dad’s eyes cast down to the silver band on his finger before looking back up to meet his eyes. 

“You’re married?” William frowned. 

“Yes.” Spencer tugged his arm free of his dad’s hold. 

“Does she know what you really are?” A smirk tugged at the older man’s lips. 

“She knows I’m a murderer.” Spencer spat, proffering the gun closer again. “I’ve killed multiple men just like you, the scum of the earth who need to pay for their crimes. And she loves me for it. She respects me for it.” 

“And let me guess, it's my fault you turned out this way?” William sighed as if he was bored. 

“Who else's fault would it be?” 

“Your wack job mother, perhaps? How many times did you witness her being violent towards me when you were young?” 

“I’m sure it wasn’t anything you didn’t deserve. And seeing my mom lash out from time to time when she didn’t take her meds and having my father sexually abuse me are two very different things!” Spencer raised his voice, spitall flying from his mouth in rage. 

“You got all your worst traits from her, you know?” William kept his cool. “Volatile, over dramatic. It’s a shame you didn’t turn out more like me.” 

“I’ll never be anything like you.” Spencer straightened his back, tried to rein himself in.

“Oh Spencer, you're already so much more like me than you realise.” William chuckled darkly and it made Spencer’s stomach turn. 

“That’s not true.” Spencer shook his head.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” William stepped closer to him and Spencer should have just shot him but he didn’t. He let his father come close to his ear and he closed his eyes when he felt the older man's breath against his face. “I killed Riley Jenkins.” 

Spencer stumbled on his feet, feeling his stomach somersaulting wildly and he briefly worried he might throw up. His father was cackling maniacally at the look on his son's face.

“No, that’s not true.” Spencer lowered the gun without meaning to. 

“The truth is Riley had more guts than you and he was going to tell his father what I did to him. So I had to kill him.” William didn’t show a hint of remorse for his actions, in fact he looked proud of himself. “So if you kill me, you’re only proving my point that you’re just like me.”

“No.” Spencer’s tears wouldn’t stay contained anymore and they started to fall. “No, I’m nothing like you.” 

“Put the gun down and walk away, son. Prove you’re not like me” William smirked at him.

“I…I can’t.” Spencer shook his head frantically. 

“Spencer,” William suddenly turned stern. “Put the gun down and walk away.”

“N-no.” Spencer’s lip quivered.

William exhaled loudly and before Spencer knew what was happening, his father advanced on him, managing to free the gun from Spencer’s hand before Spencer even saw him coming. With his other hand he swiftly punched Spencer in the stomach and when his son doubled over in pain from the blow, he grabbed him by the hair, tugged him one way and then shoved him to the floor. 

Spencer groaned as he hit the carpet but noted the knife hadn’t dislodged from his waistband. His father stood over him, pointing his own gun down at him and looking at him in frustration. 

“I don’t want to kill you, Spencer. But if the choice is between me and you then I will not hesitate in pulling this trigger.” William spat.

Spencer rolled onto his back, making sure the blade stayed concealed from his fathers vision. It was his only way out of this, he needed the element of surprise on his side. He just had to work out how to unsheath it and get one up on his dad before the other man got off a shot. 

“You want to kill me, go ahead.” Spencer shrugged, tears still silently rolling down his cheeks. “You’ve already taken everything from me, I kind of wish you’d killed me when I was a kid so I didn’t have to live with the memories of what you did to me. So just do it. Put me out of my misery.”

William swallowed, lifting his arm a little and aiming the muzzle right at Spencer’s skull. His hands were steady, tightly wrapped around the butt of the SIG and looking like he may well actually shoot Spencer and probably sleep easy afterwards. 

If Spencer didn’t act fast he was as good as dead. But he refused to let it end this way, at the hands of his abuser. He had to formulate a plan and enact it to perfection or he would die on this shitty carpet, in this crappy house and the last thing he would have seen would be the eyes of the man who molested him.

***

At some point you probably should have stopped to think about Spencer but honestly, he was the furthest thing from your mind. Not even your wedding band could distract from the intense pleasure that Jesse was bestowing upon you, quite frankly you could barely remember your own name. 

You’d lost count of how many times you’d imagined what his beard would feel like between your legs and tonight you’d finally been privy to it. The friction from his rough facial hair made the experience even more incredible than any other time you’d ever been eaten out before, and you found yourself grinding against his face to feel more of it.

He made you come with complete ease, as though he wasn’t even trying and when he sat back and wiped his hand over his mouth he was smiling sinfully at you.

“Jesus Christ.” You panted, still slightly writhing on the couch beneath him. 

“That’s half the reason I keep the beard.” He chuckled, laying down on top of you.

“What’s the other half?” You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“How good it makes me look.” He kissed you again and you tasted yourself on his lips.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and using one hand to pop the button on his jeans. You were both still fully dressed, too desperate for each other to think about undressing. But you wanted to see more of him, if this was the last chance you got to be with him, you needed to commit him to memory. 

As if reading your mind, whilst you worked on shimming his pants down to his thighs he made quick work of getting his shirt off. You pulled him back closer to you, nestling him between your legs and your hands starting to graze over the tattoo on his peck.  

But then your stomach suddenly lurched in a way you’d gotten all too used to recently and suddenly you were shoving him away and jumping to your feet. 

Jesse fell back to the couch, staring at the back of your head as you sprinted to the bathroom. He heard the toilet seat being lifted and moments later the sound of you retching reached his ears. 

He pulled a face, tucking himself away as he got to his feet, cautiously following in your tracks. He found you kneeling over the toilet seat, head in the basin while you violently vomited. 

“Are you ok?” He approached you, sitting down on the edge of the bath and stroking your back. 

“Hmm.” You grumbled, sitting back once you expelled yourself and wiping your mouth. “That’s been happening a lot lately. It’s nothing to do with you, I swear.” 

“I should hope not.” He laughed, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” You frowned up at him. 

“You’re pregnant right?” He frowned back at you. 

“No?” You shuffled backwards out of his touch. 

“Oh.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry, with the vomiting I just assumed. And I don’t mean this in the completely perverted way it’s going to sound, but I haven’t even seen you shirtless tonight and I can tell your breasts are huge. Bigger than I remember and I remember them pretty well.” 

“I…I don’t even know what to say to that.” You glanced down at your chest where your dress was stained with the drink you’d spilled. 

“Have you had any other signs? Urinating more regularly? Strange cravings or aversions to things?” He asked with a soft smile. 

You felt the colour drain from your face, feeling like you could throw up again. The signs had been there staring you in the face and you’d ignored them. But surely you couldn’t be? 

“I, uh, maybe? No. I don’t know.” You pushed yourself up to your feet. 

“When was the last time you had a period?” Jesse stood as well. 

“Too personal.” You shook your head with a groan. 

“Y/N, come on.” He cocked his eyebrow at you. 

“I don’t know.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “They’ve never been all that reliable and I have been pretty stressed recently. There is no way, I cannot be pregnant.” 

“I should probably go.” Jesse smiled sadly at you. “This was a really bad idea, wasn’t it?”

“It certainly wasn’t a good idea.” You felt your eyes welling with tears although you didn’t know why. “I’m so sorry. I wish he didn’t have this hold over me.” 

“It’s called love, Y/N.” Jesse tucked your hair behind your ear. “You love him and you shouldn’t apologise for that.” 

“Maybe I don’t? I don’t know.” You shook your head. 

“Answer me something,” Jesse folded his arms over his still bare chest. “You killed Mary because she was threatening him.”

“That’s not a question.” 

“No, I know.” He chuckled lightly. “My question is: would you have done that for anyone else? For example, would you have killed her if she was threatening me?” 

“No.” You didn’t hesitate. “No I wouldn’t have.” 

“And that’s because you love him.” Jesse shrugged. 

“But loving him makes me feel like such an idiot.”

“Now you know how I feel.” He smiled wistfully at you. “I really should go before he comes back. How long are you in town for?” 

“Just tonight, I think.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. 

“Far to travel?”

“I’m not falling into that trap.” You smirked at him. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He laughed. “Stay safe, Y/N. And if you are pregnant, good luck. For what it’s worth I think you’d make a great mom.” 

“Did you forget the part where I confessed to murder?” You frowned at him. 

“We all make mistakes.” He started walking backwards towards the door. “Take me for example, I was about to sleep with a married and potentially pregnant woman.” 

You followed him out into the living room and smiled to yourself as you got a great eye full of his ass, even if it was inside his jeans, as he bent down to pick up his shirt. You made sure to commit that to memory. 

You watched him put the shirt back ok, also trying to memorise every one of those tattoos adorned his body. He sidled closer to you again and cupped your face gently in his hands. 

“We can’t keep meeting in bars, Y/N.” He chuckled lightly. “It has to be goodbye this time.” 

“I still think you followed me here.” You teased him and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“You wish.” He chuckled, reluctantly letting go of your face. 

He took a few steps backwards towards the suite door and you had to force yourself not to follow him. He gave you a sad half-smile as he exhaled heavily and opened the door, stepping out into the corridor.

“See ya, I guess.” You shrugged, once again wrapping your arms around yourself. 

“That’s you’re parting words to me? See ya, I guess?” He chuckled with a shake of his head. 

“What do you want me to say?” You laughed. 

“What I want you to say and what you can actually say are two very different things.” He rubbed his beard. “So let’s leave it at, see ya, I guess.” 

With that he offered you a wave and reached for the door handle, closing it behind himself. And just like he was gone. 

You stumbled over to the couch and collapsed onto it, your head spinning with the evening's activities. You’d really fucked up this time. Being with Jesse back in Butte was ok because you and Spencer hadn’t really been married. But now you were married and you’d let yourself get caught up in Jesse once more. 

Maybe in a way Spencer deserved it for the way he’d treated you in the past. You’d blindly followed him only for him to treat you like dirt. Sure things had been better lately but you never knew where you stood with him and truthfully, you weren’t sure if you felt safe with him. 

And what the fuck happened if Jesse was right and you were actually pregnant? Bringing a baby into this messed up situation, to be raised by two killers? That didn’t even bear thinking about. 

He had to be wrong. There was no way you could be. You were on the pill…

…fuck. 

You were on the pill. Right up until Spencer had talked you into leaving DC and you’d left your contraceptive behind in your hurry to leave. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

***

Jesse McGill took the elevator down to the ground floor and found a quiet area in the lobby before pulling out his cell phone. He ran his hand over his beard with a large sigh, a wave of emotions crashing down around him. 

He gnawed frantically on his lip as he pulled up the number he’d received a call from yesterday and then held it to his ear. It was answered on the third ring. 

“Did you do it?” The hurried voice came down the line. 

“I did what you asked. I saw her but I didn’t see Spencer and she didn’t say where he was.” Jesse sighed, he didn’t feel good about this at all. 

“Did you ask her about Mary?” 

“Yes.” 

“And?” 

Jesse closed his eyes. He had two options here but he had no idea which was the best one. He could lie and say you wouldn’t tell him anything about what happened to Mary, which wouldn’t be completely unexpected. He could tell the truth, tell them that you confessed to killing her but you wouldn’t give up where the body was buried. 

Or, he could go with option number three. He could tell a combination of the truth and a lie. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled loudly wondering how the hell he’d gotten himself into this situation in the first place. 

“Well? What did she say?” The voice came again, impatience riddled in their tone. 

“Mary’s dead.” Jesse opened his eyes again, making his decision as he spoke. “Spencer killed her.” 

“Goddamnit. I knew it!” The other man growled, slamming something loudly and causing an echo down the phone. “Did she say anything else?”

“No. She told me the body was buried somewhere it would never be found. Apparently Mary was blackmailing Spencer and he just-”

“I don’t care why he did it.” The man scoffed. “And she didn’t give you any indication of where they’re living or anything like that?” 

“No, I tried, I really tried. But she’s not stupid.” Jesse pushed his back up against the wall, eyes fluttering between people entering and leaving Caesars. 

“You know you did the right thing, Jesse? I know you probably don’t feel good about this, but you did the right thing. It’s not her we want, it’s Spencer. I’ll make sure she’s protected.” 

“I know, but it feels fucking rotten.” Jesse sighed again. “What happens now?”

“That’s not for you to worry about. We’ve got this from here. Get a room for the night, it’s late, catch a flight home tomorrow. Let me know how much they cost and I’ll ensure you get reimbursed.” 

“I don’t care about that.” Jess shook his head. “I liked her and I feel like I’ve betrayed her.” 

“You did the right thing.” The voice repeated. “I promise I only want what’s best for her. And that’s to get her away from Spencer. You’ve been a huge help. Thanks again Jesse.” 

Jesse hated being a part of this, depised that he’d been dragged into this fucked up mess. He’d meant it when he told you he loved you which only made this harder. But they say if you love someone you have to let them go, if they return they were always yours and if they don’t, they never were. 

He knew exactly which one you were. 

“Agent Alvez?” Jesse blurted out. He closed his eyes as if it might somehow relieve his guilt before he spoke again. “There is one more thing you should know…”

***

Spencer leant against the wall in the elevator as it made its ascent, staring at the closed metal doors while he tried to piece his night back together. 

Everything that happened after his dad shoved him to the floor and took his gun was a blur. His stomach ached, he wouldn’t be surprised if his father had left him with a nasty bruise. His fist had clipped him right in the steadily healing scar from the knife wound you'd inflicted on him months ago. 

He remembered the pain, he remembered trying to think of a way to free the knife from the back of his pants. But it was like at some point he blacked out because the next thing he knew he was standing over his fathers dead body covered in blood. 

He’d counted forty three stab wounds in his fathers torso, sliced like Swiss cheese and damn near eviscerated. The man who had molested him, his biggest demon was dead. And the most poetically tragic part was that Spencer didn’t remember killing him. 

Maybe the haze would clear and over time he’d be able to piece the events back together. It was possible his brain was trying to protect him from the trauma of recollecting the murder of his father, but if it had safeguarded him from the memories of being eight years old, there wouldn’t have been the need to kill William in the first place. 

He’d cleaned up the crime scene, the messiest one he’d ever had to face due to the amount of blood that wept from those forty three wounds. He put his fathers body in the trunk of the Impala and found a sweater in the backseat which was lucky given the amount of blood on his hoodie. 

He stood in his fathers bathroom and stared at his reflection. His face and neck were splattered in the red sticky substance and his hands were almost entirely covered. He cleaned himself off the best he could and before he knew it he was driving away from the house. 

He stumbled through the lobby of Caesars as if he were drunk, his brain felt that kind of intoxicated haze too. He made it up to his floor and slotted his key in the door. In all honesty, after the events of the night, he completely forgot you’d be there. So when he shoved up the door and found you sitting on the couch in the suite, he had to blink a few times as he tried to piece back moments from earlier in the day. 

You pushed yourself to your feet, taking a few steps towards Spencer, your brows furrowed at his obvious confusion. 

“You ok?” You didn’t come too close, you were wary of him. 

“Uh, yeah.” He swallowed before clearing his throat. “Yeah I think so.” 

“You’ve been gone for hours.” You rolled your lips between your teeth. 

“I have?” He rubbed one of his eyes. 

“Are you drunk?” 

“No, no. Not drunk. Tired, maybe?” He questioned himself. “I should probably…I don’t know, sleep or something.” 

He started in your direction and moved past you and as he did so you caught the familiar smell of blood. That coupled with the tiny red drop you’d noticed on the side of his neck confirmed your theory about where he’d been.

“Did you get your phone?” You asked as he passed you. 

He turned back to you, squinting a little, clearly confused. 

“Uh…” he swallowed again. “Sure.” 

“Spencer?” You folded your arms over your chest. 

“Yeah?” 

“Who’d you kill?” 

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply through his nose. He should have known you’d see right through him. 

“No one. It’s nothing.” He mumbled, opening his eyes again. 

“You have blood on your neck. And I’m pretty certain if you took your sweater off your shirt would be covered in blood.” You took another step forward. “Who’d you kill?” 

He sighed over dramatically, by way of telling you he didn’t want to be having this conversation. He rubbed his eyes, subsequently helping to clear the daze he’d been in and looked at you curiously, as though it was his first time seeing you. You noticed his eyes flick to your bicep and you followed his gaze, only then realising your mistake. 

You involuntarily raised your other hand and placed it over the flashing beacon that had been left behind on your arm, a symbol of your infidelity. 

“What have you done to your arm?” He grinded his teeth, loud enough that you could hear it. 

“I must have, uh, walked into something I guess.” 

“No. Nuh uh.” He shook his head, advancing on you and roughly tugging your hand away from the array of bruises around your bicep. “Try again.” 

“I don’t know where they came from.” You whimpered. 

“You’re lying.” He spat. “I’ve left enough bruises on you to know they are from someone’s fingers.” 

He wrapped his own hand around your arm just lower than where the red mark was adorned on your skin. 

“I guess you must have done it then. We did have sex earlier.” 

“No.” He shook his head. “That wasn’t me. Who the fuck did this to you?” 

“N-no one.” You chewed heavily on your lip, teeth digging deeply into the flesh. 

“No one? So you’re just magically producing bruises?” He snarled at you. 

“No.” You pouted. “Stop changing the subject. Who’s blood is on you?” 

“Who gave you these bruises?” He countered, still holding your arm. 

“Who did you kill?”

“Who hurt you?” 

You were at a stalemate, glaring at each other wildly, neither one of you wanting to admit the truth to the other. You’d rather he hurt you than admit that you’d cheated on him. And he’d rather die than tell you about what his father had done to him.

He suddenly let go of your arm and huffed loudly, stepping backwards and raking his fingers through his hair. 

“What are you keeping from me?” He mumbled as if talking to himself. 

“We all have secrets, Spencer.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “You more so than anyone. So you don’t get to be angry at me if I choose not to tell you everything.” 

He glared at you, rage filled eyes scrutinising you in a way he’d never looked at you both. 

“Who the fuck even are you?” He shook his head. “I don’t even recognise what you’ve become.” 

“Me?” You spat. “Whatever I’ve become you turned me into!” 

“I made you!” He growled. “And this is how you repay me? Lying to me and keeping secrets?” 

“What can I say? I learnt from the best!” Your anger rose rapidly. “I should have known you were lying to me tonight. You butter me up with up sex and leave me here alone while you go out and kill even though I’ve proven to you time and time again that you can trust me! So yeah I went downstairs to the bar and I thought, hey, if my husband doesn’t want to spend time with me, maybe someone else will.” 

“You did what?” He snapped, suddenly grabbing you roughly by both arms and pushing you back against the nearest wall. “You didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

“What if I did?” You snarled, refusing to show your fear. “What are you gonna do about it?” 

“Who was he? I’ll fucking kill him!” He slammed you into the wall. 

“You’ll do no such thing.” 

“I cant fucking believe you! How could you do that to me? I married you! And now you’re picking up random men in bars? Have some self respect!” He was really close to your face and the metallic smell was overwhelming. 

“Since day one in this relationship you have done whatever you want to do and not given me a second thought. Why should I give your feelings any consideration when you give mine none? You just hate that I’ve grown a fucking back bone!” You fought against him but he was stronger.

“You think cheating on your husband is the same as my trying to protect you from what I’m doing?” 

“Project me? Oh please.” You scoffed. “I have killed three people Spencer, I don’t need protecting.” 

“Who was he?” He asked again, slamming you into the wall once more. “Or did you even stop to get his name before you spread your legs for him?” 

“Fuck you!” You screamed in his face.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you little whore. What kind of man fucks a married woman? A married woman he just picked up in a bar who he doesn’t even know? It actually says more about the man himself than you.”

“Fuck you!” You repeated, louder this time. “Jesse is twice the man you’ll ever be!” 

It was a complete slip of the tongue. You didn’t think you meant to implicate Jesse in that way but your rage had taken over. 

Spencer suddenly softened and his hands fell from your arms to his sides and he stumbled backwards like you’d punched him in the gut. He blinked at you as you kept yourself pressed against the wall.

“Jesse?” He croaked. “As in that fucking mountain man? He was here? You and him…? You really know how to fucking hurt me, don’t you?” 

He fell back to the couch and put his head in his hands. He thought you loved him, he thought he knew you. Maybe it was all an act that he’d fallen for hook, line and sinker. Maybe he’d never really known you, maybe he never would. Maybe you’d been on completely different pages all along. 

When had your heart ceased to beat for him, when had it turned numb? He loved you with every fibre of his being but perhaps it was time he let you go. 

Because as he looked at you now, he had no idea who you were. Behind your eyes you were a perfect stranger disguised as the woman he loved. You were nothing more than a mysterious effigy of the heart you’d broken. 

Miss Mysterious, who are you?

Who's the girl behind those eyes? Just a stranger in disguise?

Miss Mysterious, who could you be?

Where's the ghost of what we had? Did you erase it from your past?

Oh, so I pointed in every direction,

Oh well, looking for answers I'll never know.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

Miss Mysterious, may I ask:

Is your sunshine like my rain? Is your pleasure like my pain?

So delirious, casting your stones,

With the blood fall to my face,

Hoping that you'll lose your aim.

Oh, well it looks so bright with the lights out,

Oh well, I guess our stars forgot how to glow.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

No baby you, you broke my heart,

Now how do I get closure when you're only ever closed off?

Tell me who could take your place?

When these memories are telling me,

That we were not always,

Now don't even try to tell me that I should just relax,

And we're not strangled and over the tracks.

I tried to reach, I stretch out my hand but you turned around instead,

So many nights living inside just to connect with you.

Now I'm trying hard to win this but we've lost all we can lose,

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right?

The saying goes "if you love someone let them go".

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

Or let me know when your heart went numb.

I said go, run for your life, and tell me I'm right,

The saying goes "if you love someone".

Said if you love someone,

Now if you love someone,

Let them go.

Let them go.

@bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world @daddy-dotcom @nomajdetective @rebelliousstories

[iceinwhb]

Dark headcannon II

﹅ contains ;; what in hell is bad, Leviathan, sensitive content, violence, explicit content.

﹅ warnings ;; Dark headcannon, insane descrptions, abuse.

His fingers gently stroked the hair, slowly abstracting in the sensation of softness, even soft breathing, and finally, his touch ended on the cheeks.

The body shuddered under his gaze, which needed to memorize every crease and form, before it all ended hopelessly wrong.

Silence was evident, but he could still feel the slight uncertainty in Foras. That worry I always hate to death, but he could do nothing but bite his tongue every time and avoid sentimentality, on his own.

At least that was the case when Solomon's descendant was in hell, she was a danger and above all an imposed weakness. But he constantly made it evident that she was not to leave hell. Too many times to count on his hands.

And it was absurd that she would have preferred to go back and stay with a human, clearly inferior to anything he could offer her.

But he didn't bother to reflect his constant anxiety about it. In fact it was just the opposite, he hoped she make the decision to end up there.

For by then there would no longer be anything that could take her away from him. There was no longer a king she could miss, and he was, by far, far better than a mere weak mortal.

He lifted her gently, even knowing the kind of sensitivity she managed when she slept, and went back to hell. It was even easier to take each step as she slowly opened her eyes, and realized she was being robbed.

She seemed to feel the fury itching under his skin, and looked for the tiniest crack to push itself outward, but he was no longer even capable of using a rope to hang her. No, that time, he had something he should have done from the beginning.

“Who are you?” His eyes did not lower, but continued to be fixed on the path, as his fingers buried themselves more firmly into the body that was beginning to twitch annoyingly. “How did you get into my house? Where are you taking me!”

“Foras.” He made barely a simple gesture, but it was enough for Foras to stop following him and stand halfway down the hallway, knowing exactly what Leviathan wanted.

As the deeper the path he stepped on became, where not even a single bolt of lightning was able to reach him. The trembling increased, rather than the resistance, and the only salvageable reaction was how the breathing began to move with excessive force.

“What are you doing. With me.” There seemed to be a flicker of a voice, too small to compare to the first time she teased him. He would have found it boring, and would have left her there, except that it would still be obvious that she was in hell.

“Learn to control yourself.”

A tentacle slithered under the bed in the room he had entered, and lifted the furniture, moving it out of his way, even lifted the wood off the floor, opening a more secret door, and intruded into the deep darkness, as if to lead the way.

He descended the steps, ignoring even the fingers that tried to make it out of the force he implemented.

“Please, please, stop.” He paused only when the body stretched, struggling not to enter the darkness, as if there was something there, that gave her the message of danger. “I'll do anything you want, but don't do this.”

She didn't have a clue that there was a chance, and she blew it completely. He knew there was the slightest risk, and if he gave her the benefit of the doubt, it was like handing her the perfect weapon to assassinate him.

He stood, halfway up the stairs, enjoying the fear, feeding on the trembling as the torso and part of the chest pressed against his nose.

He did not insist on forcing her by his own hand, but simply watched as a groan of surprise came from her, before her body fell on the hard stairs and she was dragged down by a tentacle that clung to her throat, similar to a necklace.

He followed the body, as his attention continued on her and the way she writhed, as her hands struggled against the apostle's grip, but it was in vain, because five minutes later the body turned livid.

He smiled, as they finally reached the room, made solely for the purpose of being inhabited by the last descendant of Solomon. He almost laughed, as the apostle curled up on every limb, as a reflection of the obsessiveness to take her completely.

His eyes kept boring into her, unable to forgive her. That was just one more reason to quit hiding what he wanted, over the poor selfishness she aspired to achieve.

He refocused on the hoarse moan, and the slow movements, regaining her consciousness. The gasp that followed was just the beginning of a long process, which she took immediately into practice.

“Stop it, please, stop it.”

“Does it matter now?” He held the dirty cheeks, as the eye contact grew heavier and denser, but what was in every feature, there was fear. “You can't leave hell even if you die. You knew that, but you still made your decision.”

She opened her mouth, barely a few moments, trying to get words out that were interrupted when he held her neck and pressed down.

The windpipe was even soft, mallugged by the apostle's strength, but that didn't mean Leviathan should trust in it. He held the nape of her neck, as his fingers dug in hard, drowning out the sound that vibrated in his hand as a bone broke.

“Just a moment longer.” Another crunch filled the space, but this time, with more perpetual intent. The thyroid glans twitched even lowered the pressure, perhaps hurting itself from the sudden movement and finally he released it.

A scream came after a long deep breath, she coughed and screamed again, all mixed into a whimper that was clear right after. The cry rose, and though he must have stirred his chest, he felt nothing but anxiety.

For it was not enough, he would not have enough, and at that moment, though pain clouded the human mind, soon, the only thought she would have would be him, every moment of every day and every night.

She turned, trembling, and he allowed her to for a second, before he held her arm and stand over her body, never letting his attention leave her.

“Leviathan is the only name you must call out. The only thing you will think from now on, and the only thing you will have until your death.” Lips trembled, tears fell, and yet, though she must have been frightened, all he saw was fury. “You must hate me, to the end.”

And that was fine to him. The purest, and most mammoth hatred that blossomed with injustice, and overcame any human limitations.

“Let go of me!” She hit his jaw hard enough to make him pull away. She didn't even wait another second before she returned to lace another blow across his face, breaking his lip. She climbed over him, clearly angry.

He laughed, as he wiped the tingling, rather than stinging, blow.

“Your worthlessness transcends your own reason. Weak human.” Inevitably he yearned for more. With the same unwarranted manner, he sought to compete with his role as abuser, and take the consequences.

Not only did she hit his stability, again and again, pressing the dangerous spots, but he got what he needed.

He held her hips, even as the furious scratches snapped into his face, and he felt the raging desire again. For he wasn't capable of having her only one way, but wanted to hog every part.

And like the first time, she tried to choke him, because there was nothing she could use as a weapon. He pushed the erection to the center of her legs, knowing exactly how it would end when he clamped her wrists and tightened his grip. She gasped, sharply enough to bristle his skin, and his eyes moved immediately to the apostle's arm, which was pulling her toward him, more closer.

There were tears instead of fury, again, as if she couldn't be consistent with her feelings, but he didn't care, as long as he was the only for her. It was fine even if he pushed himself over the edge, as long as they just stayed that way.

The sobbing didn't stop, perhaps because she was finally realized that the darkness was going to drown her at any moment if she didn't cling to him, and fight for her life.

The creaking in her limbs did not stop. Nor was it going to stop, until every muscle and bone became a useless mass of flesh.

And only then, only after realizing that he was all she had to survive, would it truly be just him.

⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧✃✃✃⛧✁✁✁⛧

I'll be honest… The writer side of me wants to drag it out even a little longer, and give it some closure, because it has potential to be a good novel… I guess, since it's a short story, it's not pleasant because it bores.

And I know you can't imagine it, but yes, I write. Do I make it pretty? Do you like it? lmao. If you see mistakes, again, I apologize. I was never good at editing, but I was good at writing unintelligible. (For some reason I always end up writing this at night and you know…My brain is already on its full.)

I'd like to say that Leviathan is a poor little bb looking for love, BUT that baby is already like 2000 years old breathing, so he doesn't count anymore.

And I apologize if I can't give you something that these crazy (demon) men would really give, I have a lot of respect for people who don't like this content. (And even for those who did want to, I spared them a trauma, believe me. I made a “WTF? WHAT IS THAAAAAAAT” face as I was reading, and I cut the text and redid it twice out of indecision, lmao. I don't think I'm sure about some parts either because I find the reading slow, not shocking.)

But anyway, in case you didn't know, you can write me and ask me whatever you want (requests). I am always there, I want to listen to you.

[selkies-world]

Something something, Trump's vice saying that they need to execute people who don't support Trump, something something, Trump banning abortion & reproductive health care & birth control, something something, Trump saying Puerto Ricans just multiply and have lots of babies, something something, Trump being funded by Elon Musk, something something, Musk openly stating that the economy will suffer because Trump will give him free reign to have his Meta wetdream come true at the expense of the entire country, something something, Trump wanting to put transgender kids in "homes" away from affirming parents & wanting to have transgender adults "imprisoned" or put into "homes" or "camps", something something, Trump & Putin & Farage, something something, Trump & the big red button, something something, does nobody else remember Trump threatening Nuclear War with Russia & China & North (?) Korea over petty or racist things BEFORE RUSSIA THREATENED THE WORLD WITH NUCLEAR WW3 IF WE INTERVENE AND STOP RUSSIA INVADING UKRAINE, something something, Trump's supporters seeing him as the mesiah and saviour and King David and other god-like personas rather than a deeply flawed and power-hungry man with mental health issues who is not fit to run one of the biggest and most powerful and influential countries in the world, something something, leaving disabled and chronically ill people to die or suffer without medicare, something something, making it illegal to miscarry (& probably to have a stillbirth), something something, didn't somebody say it'd be okay under Trump to euthanize people who can't / won't contribute to the industrial capitalist society? Something something, Trump saying he wants the generals Hitler had, something something, the Nazi Euthanasia Programme (T4, I think?), something something, look in a history book and tell me what happened to the Jews & blacks in Germany when they were taken to centres & divided into those who could provide labour (& who were taken to concentration camps to becomes slaves and endure torture) and those who could not provide labour.

Look in a history book, and you will see that WW2 started in the 1930s, but there were signs of it coming on the 1920s. There was a build up, there was a gradual inclination towards it, and it was that inclination which put Hitler in power - before that inclination happened, he was the leader of a very unpopular party whom nobody paid much attention to. There were signs, there were bridges crossed, there were decisions made, there were votes won and there were more and more slippery steps to take before Germany announced war in the 1930s. And throughout all of that time, it was the minorities, those who would suffer the most just for existing, who felt the pressure first while the rest of society began to celebrate Hitler. It was these people who were growing uncomfortable with the fact regular education had been replaced by swastikas in schoolbooks, and with Hitler being featured in children's rhymes as a friendly father figure to guard over them all - and more so with the fact this was mandatory for every child to learn, and that teachers had two choices: teach children what Hitler wanted them to learn, or lose their jobs, in the best case scenario.

WW2 didn't just 'happen' in the 1930s; it was already being created in the 1920s.

We know this. We also know that we can match Trump's movements almost exactly to the steps taken by Hitler in the late 1920s & early 1930s. We know where this path leads, because we saw it before. We know where this path leads, because we have been down it before. We know where this path leads, because we were swept along by the current last time it happened.

It hasn't even been 100 years since WW2 began. It hasn't even been 100 years since the Holocaust; there are people who survived it who are still alive today.

It hasn't even been 100 years since the world went through what was perhaps the worst war in human history, to date.

Please do not make the world go through it all again. Because this time, there is different technology, different threats, and I promise you, it will not be the victory you want.

I know you're angry at the world. I know you're hurt, hurt to the point of being numb. I know you're tired and I know you're scared. I know you're scared of the unknown, which is why you might not be sure about voting for Kamala. Better the devil you know, and all that. But, America, I promise you, if you vote for Trump on Tuesday, you will damn your country, your people, and the rest of the world, to Hell. This election isn't happening in a vacuum - none of your elections have. Did you know that the UK celebrated when Obama legalised gay marriage? Did you know that multiple countries now celebrate 2 pride months, June and July, since Trump changed when the USA would celebrate it last time he was on power? Did you know that Scotland, Ireland and Wales study your civil war and your resistance and your wars of independence as intensely as we study the French revolution? Did you know that when JFK was assassinated, there were memorials and vigils held in multiple countries? Did you know that the global variation of English, AKA Globish, is more strongly influenced by US-English than British English, Australian English or Canadian English? Did you know that people who barely speak English can sing country songs word for word, with an American accent? Did you know that up until 2016, a lot of people in other countries saw the USA as the land where dreams come true - a whole country with the magic of Disneyland, where anyone can become anything, where the wildness is still free and where there are sights and sounds found nowhere else in the world? Did you know how influential you, your people and your country is to the rest of the world?

You're not voting in a vacuum, because the USA doesn't exist in a vacuum. I know you're scared - you know this election is important. I know you're hurt, because you haven't been listened to in the past, and Biden betrayed your trust, and you have no reason to vote blue this time around because you don't think Kamala will keep her word. I know you're reluctant to vote for her because she isn't openly stating that she will help Palestine; but the truth is that she and Biden have been trying to negotiate a ceasefire between Isreal and Palestine for a while now, while Trump has been in frequent communication with the leader of Isreal and has been encouraging the genocide to continue. This is what he does without the backing of your country behind him; what do you think he would do with the power of the Whitehouse backing him, when nobody can tell him no, when he will be seen by many as being above the law? Do you really believe that he'll save you, or anybody but himself, when push comes to shove?

Maybe Kamala isn't a Saint. Maybe her rule won't be perfect. Maybe it won't give you back the America you remember from your childhoods, and maybe she won't give us back the America we imagined your country to be. But she will save the planet from desolation, she will protect your people, she will protect your land, she will offer a chance for us to survive the climate crisis, and she will protect your sisters, daughters, wives, mothers, aunts and grandmothers.

If an 8 year old girl is raped by a neighbour, does she deserve to die in labour? Does she deserve to live with the changes forced on her body for the rest of her life, before it was ready? Does her mother deserve to watch her daughter go through that? Does her father deserve to watch his little angel suffer like that? Or does that little girl deserve a doctor who is allowed to save her life and what's left of her childhood?

Trump will condemn that little girl to death if she carries the baby to term and isn't provided the best medical care available. Trump will have that girl imprisoned if she has a stillbirth or miscarries. Trump will have that girl and her family imprisoned if she tries to have it aborted. Trump will condemn that girl for the rest of her life, due to something she had no control over and did not want or deserve. And he will say it's alright, maybe even good, that she suffered like that, because it's what she deserved. He will make up lies about her and her mother and her father. He will make them all into monsters for the rest of your people to hate, condemn and mock.

Kamala will save that little girl's life. Kamala will give that mother her little girl back, safe and healthy. Kamala will give that father his little angel back for him to protect.

Please, America. Please vote blue on Tuesday. Please vote for Kamala. Please vote for Harris. Please. Please, please, please.

Voting BLUE doesn't mean that you're saying "I agree with everything Kamala says, and I think she is a Saint, and I think she's going to save the world, and I think her plans are perfect."

That isn't what you're saying, if it isn't how you feel.

Voting BLUE means that you're saying "I disagree with Trump, and I don't want to turn the USA into the West's Russia, and I don't want to lose everything I know to the third world war, and I don't want to subject the USA to another civil war," because I promise you, that is what he will do if he gets your vote.

[moodymisty]

So I actually have a 'Uriel Ventris has a kid' story written, If this goes well I'll post more.

---------------------------------------------------

Taking in the scene before him, there was only one thought in Roboute Guilliman's mind; This is all Belisarius Cawl's fault.

He was over 10 millennia old and he had seen some of the worst things the Galaxy had to offer, from competition from other species, betrayal by his own brothers, and the eldritch Tumors called Gods. He didn't believe that anything could surprise him anymore.

And yet, here he was sitting dumbstruck before a baseline woman, three of his sons, and a tiny human who seemed to be the only one enjoying all of this.

He cleared his throat, "So, ma'am, can you care to explain how you ended up having your charge?" He pointed at the little boy, only for said child to pipe up, "My name is Apollo!"

The woman's cheeks coloured despite her dark complexion, "I apologize on his behalf my lord, he does not know what he is saying." The boy was about to speak up, only for his mother to put her hand over his mouth, muffling his voice.

"Yes, now about young Apollo here." Guilliman continued, a part of him wanted to laugh at the small child's antics, but he had a job to do.

Isadore composed herself, she was in front of a primarch, she cannot disappoint him, especially for Apollo's sake.

"Lord Belisarius Cawl had recruited me to assist on a project, and as my family considered it a great honor, I went with him. I assumed that I would be a servant in his lab, cleaning up after his experiments. However, it seemed that he had a different idea in mind."

Her blush deepened, the implications making everyone uncomfortable.

Roboute wanted very badly to smack Cawl for tricking her in such a way. "I see, do you know who his father is?"

Isadore shifted in her seat, "I was not privy to much of the details of the experiment, but from what I could gather, his father was an astartes from the Ultramarines Chapter."

She really didn't know what else to say, before being fooled by Cawl, she was a rather simple seamstress from an Agriworld. She wasn't considered particularly beautiful either, with plain brown hair, eyes, and skin. A bit taller than average, which was her only stand out feature, but that was cancelled out by her rather ugly freckles marrying her face and body.

Never in her life did she think that she would have a child fathered by an Astartes, for one, she thought that it would be impossible for Space Marines to father children at all.

"I see," the primarch's eye seemed to develop a twitch, he didn't realise that when he gave Cawl the orders to research Primarch virility, he should've been more specific as to where to stop. "We will have the young lad her genetically tested to find his father, then we will regroup and decide how to move forward. Uriel, please escort our guest here to one of the serf quarters so that she may take some rest."

She watched as a tall marine with short, cropped, straight black hair with startling blue eyes nodded and motioned for her to follow him.

She bowed before the primarch and left the room, her child looking up at her curiously.

As they made their way down to the serf quarters, Uriel couldn't help but sneak glances at her, she was beautiful in a down to earth way. Gorgeous chocolate colored hair, clear skin, and deep brown eyes. Her height giving her a matronly aura and her full lips seemed soft.

He tried to push the thoughts away. Their father had recently revealed to them that he was going to give them a choice to have offspring to bolster the Imperium's numbers of neophytes.

He didn't know how to feel about that, but as part of this decision, marines were made to go through intense hypno brainwashing to return to them their more base urges.

Uriel hated how they made him feel like an out of control animal. He didn't like not having full control of his thoughts. Besides, the last thing the poor woman would want is to be harassed by astartes when she had already gone through so much.

He secretly admitted to himself that any astartes who fathered her child was a lucky man.

---------------------------------------------------

This is basically how the story would go, as Isadore and Uriel grow closer to each other and some shocking reveals as to whose soul Apollo has in him.

Also, yes, Uriel has a thing for Milfs. Isadore has low self esteem as she wasn't considered attractive in her culture, and Cawl only saw her as an acceptable carrier for astartes children.

So, yeah, tell me how you guys feel about this.

added your second post to this one so it's all together <3

the 'i don't know the father' mystery! it's a classic XD and poor guilliman having yet another weird thing to deal with on top of all the other weird things in 42m XD

[levia-chan]

MAKING PACT

A/N: Well, for some reason Tumblr doesn't have many works with demon!MC, so I decided to try to write my own, I hope you like it :3

- No.

- MC, please think again. I assure you, this pact will benefit both of us! - that annoying sorcerer won't leave you alone.

He's been trying to get you to make a pact with him for quite some time. You don't want that. Which, in fact, led to your current situation. You're desperately trying to get away from the sorcerer somewhere far away, and he's still following you.

- I said no. Look for some other demon to make a pact with them.

It seems suspicious to you that such a powerful sorcerer is persistently trying to make a pact with you. You don't have such a high rank and you barely match the level of the fallen brothers, so why would he do that?

Solomon already has 72 demons under his control, so what would change if you joined this list? If he wants a pact with you just because you're closely related to the seven brothers, then he won't get it.

- MC, listen, I don't just want to make a pact with you. I see great potential in you! If we combine our knowledge and abilities, we can achieve a lot! Besides, we will certainly be able to learn something new from each other! - he was hoping to convince you with that sweet talk and friendly smile.

Oh, Diavolo, this man is really testing your patience.

That's it, you've had enough.

You stop abruptly and turn to face him. "Listen, I'm flattered by your desire to make a pact with me, but I doubt we'll be able to learn anything from each other. Besides, you overestimate me. I'm not that strong, and I don't want to be overshadowed by a human."

Now that he finally had your attention, he took your hand in his and gently ran his thumb over your knuckles.

- You're being too hard on yourself. You have your strengths, and I have my weaknesses. If you're still not sure, then how about showing off our skills to each other?

You wanted to object, but first you decided to weigh the pros and cons. In the end, you decided that a show of force wouldn't hurt and would perfectly show who you'd be connected to if you did decide to make a pact.

- Okay, I'm interested. But after this show, my decision will be final. Either we make a pact or not, it's up to me. Is that clear? - you took your hands out of his hands.

Solomon nods his head. He understands your conditions perfectly and will be ready to fulfill them, even if everything turns out not in his favor.

- Great! Now it remains to decide exactly where we would like to do this.

Both of you turned your heads at the same time towards the old dark forest not far from you. There is almost no one there, except for some rarely passing animals, plus it is far from the busy city.

Just perfect.

- Huh, I think great minds think the same way, - you laugh and start moving towards the forest first.

Solomon didn't mind that you were leading him. It didn't take you long to get to the middle of the forest, where you are surrounded only by earth, rocks and some sticks. You are accompanied by a light cool wind that makes the hairs on your skin stand on end, because you were not wearing enough warm clothes.

He noticed that you were shaking a little, so he immediately took his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

- Are you cold? - he was smiling as he put his coat on your shoulders. "I wouldn't want you to freeze. You still need to demonstrate your abilities, MC."

You fell into a stupor for a while. You didn't expect such gentlemanly behavior, especially from him.

- What about you? You people are more fragile. A little breeze won't kill me. Take care of yourself, wizard - you tried to give him back his coat.

The last thing you need is for him to poke you in the face what a sissy you are for the rest of the day.

The sorcerer, also stubborn, forced you to keep his coat with you. "I want you to know that I'm not like other people. Besides, the turtleneck suits me fine," he fiddled with the fabric around his neck.

Well, if he insists, then who are you to refuse?

Now that you have reached the perfect location, you have a large empty space at your disposal.

You turned your head towards him and tilted it slightly. "So, are you starting or am I?" you're flexing your fingers in preparation for the demonstration.

Solomon laughed and rolled up his sleeves to his elbows. "Come on, please, demons go ahead."

- Wow, look at the gentleman, - you smirked.

At first, you stretched your hand out and felt the breeze passing through your fingers. You put your middle finger and thumb together and started concentrating. Magic began to crackle in the air. When a ball of magical energy formed in your hand, you turned all your attention to one object.

You looked at a large boulder and sharply reduced the sphere, after which you sent this small ball to the boulder. In just a second, a rather powerful explosion occurred. Strong air currents formed, as well as debris of different sizes, which began to fly in different directions. Some even flew in your direction.

- MC! - Solomon grabbed your arm and tried to pull you away, but you didn't even move.

You looked at the wreckage and clenched your hand into a fist. The stones stopped abruptly in the air and began to fall to the ground under the influence of gravity, forming small craters.

Since the danger has passed, the sorcerer has released your hand. He breathed out a sigh of relief and looked at you worriedly. "You could have been hurt, you know? It's good that you have a great reaction."

- I know my abilities and I wouldn't do this if I wasn't sure of my own safety. But it's nice that you're worried about me when you should be thinking about yourself.

He chuckled as it was his turn to show his strength. He will prove that he is worthy to make a pact with you.

- Let's see if you'll keep thinking I'm weak. Oh, and by the way, you're not getting seasick in the air, are you? - he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

- No. Why-

You didn't have time to finish and understand what was going on, because you suddenly flew into the sky. The only thing that could soften your fall is the edges of the trees.

Solomon was next to you in a second, but he was much better at floating in the air than you were. Watching you awkwardly hanging in the air, he covered his mouth, trying to hide a chuckle. - Well? Are you having fun?

You stared at him, kicking your legs in the air. "What do you think? You just shot me like a projectile from a catapult! And without any warning!"

- You'll get used to it soon, but for now let me help you, - he flew up to you and took your hands. He began to guide you, and now your flight has stopped being so erratic.

It took your breath away to realize that you were so high above the ground. "You don't send everyone you meet flying, do you? Because it's a great way to make enemies."

- Don't worry, I'm not that reckless, - he smiled and gently lowered you both down. "I only do this with those who are really interesting to me and with whom I want to become closer."

You fell silent, feeling his gaze on you. "Solomon, - you haven't called him that for quite a while, - if you want to make a pact with me just because I know my brothers well, then you don't have to continue. I don't like being used."

He seemed to be taken aback by this response. "Is that why you've been rejecting the pact all this time?"

-... Well.. Why else would you sign a contract with me?..

Solomon gently took your hand. "MC.. Pacts are not something you will make with someone for no reason. What I want from you means more to me than strength or power."

Your feet finally touched the ground, and you were speechless after such a subtle confession. You can't even look at him.

- It looks like I'm making things too complicated, - he noticed your stunned state. "According to our agreement, I will accept any decision you make. Pact or not," he lowered his head and looked away, preparing to face rejection.

Before he left, you grabbed his arm and stopped him.

- The pact. I want to make a pact with you.